


The Power of Caring

by ElenaCee



Series: The Consultant [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Kirk learns that Section 31 has revived Khan and is using him for nefarious purposes, he decides to step in and try to gain the Augment as an ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a self-indulgent fic I wrote to try to get Khan to join the Enterprise crew. Because, wow, what an asset he would be. It's both my first fic in this fandom and the longest fic I ever wrote.

* * *

 

_"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."_

― Leo Buscaglia

* * *

 

**Prologue**

 

"I am very sorry."

Dr. Fowler sounded and looked sincere, but Cathérine was too distraught for demonstrations of sympathy. "You said -..." She paused to gather herself. "You said that you had a cure. You were absolutely sure it would work."

"I know. I don't understand why it didn't. All the other patients -"

"Well, good for your other patients, Doctor, but all I care about is that my husband is dead, despite this miracle serum that you made us pay a fortune for, I might add. Experimental, you said. Which, of course, means that the next thing you're going to tell me is that insurance won't cover this." Her voice grew harder with every word.

Fowler bit his lip. He could obviously feel that this was going to get ugly, and he was damned right. "Mrs. Dufour, I really have no explanation -"

Again, Cathérine did not let him finish. Due to this man's promises, her hopes had been high for the longest time despite the dire state of her husband, but now Bertrand was dead and her family as good as bankrupt. As far as she was concerned, all that was down to Dr. Fowler. She was not without connections, and there was no way that this matter would not get aired in public. "Tell that to your lawyers, Doctor. We'll be seeing each other in court. And I promise you that fraud will be the least of your charges."

She swept out, leaving Fowler to sit back in his chair, burying his fists in his short, grey hair.

For a long time, the doctor did not move. Finally, he dropped his hands with a groan and paged his receptionist. "Clevon, get me Agent Miller."

 

* * *

 

**Chapter 1**

 

  
"God, how I hate this. Let me count the ways."

Jim grinned behind the hand he was using to support his head, elbow resting on the armrest of his captain's chair. His own thoughts, right this moment, had been along the lines of 'this is the greatest thing that ever happened to me'.

Leonard McCoy, of course, did not share Jim's sentiment. The surgeon's voice was positively sepulchral. "Loathe it, I should say. 'Hate' isn't strong enough. My entire being rebels against it. Look at that. Just look at it."

Jim knew without turning his head what Bones was grousing about. They had dropped out of warp to gather sensory data in this uncharted sector, and the bridge viewscreen in front of them was replete with space. Stars, nebulae, endless vastness. The beauty and thrill of the unknown.

"I mean, really look at it, and then look at us. We're in a tiny, tiny tin can, a bubble of warmth and life surrounded by certain death in the shape of sudden decompression and shock freezing. This is the definition of an unstable condition. It can only end in a catastrophe. What are the odds of us actually coming back from this after exposing ourselves to it for _five years_?"

"I would calculate the odds at approximately 73.8 %, Doctor," Spock said from behind Jim's other shoulder, unfailingly picking up his cue.

There was a pause. Jim could imagine the glare Bones was giving his favorite foil. "I think, in your calculations, you conveniently disregarded the fact that space is not uninhabited, and that there will be things that will deliberately try to kill us, Spock. The odds are zero. Zero point zero. Besides, I'm convinced you pulled that figure out of your ass."

"I see no reason to do that, given the fact that statistical calculation will reliably yield those figures while my digestive tract, even if different from and more efficient than yours, has yet to produce anything that might prove remotely useful."

Jim stifled his chortle in his hand. Uhura, who had been listening and coordinating sensor reports with that multitasking ability of hers that the whole bridge crew secretly envied, gave an affectionate chuckle. Chekov and Sulu exchanged a glance and turned back to their instruments, shaking their heads almost in sync.

"Well, I'll be damned," Bones said, and Jim could hear the grin in his voice. "Spock just made a joke."

"A mere statement of fact, Doctor."

 _This is nice_ , Jim thought as the bickering continued behind him. He had his best friends, his ship, and he was on his way towards the unknown. _It doesn't get any better than this._

It was almost enough to make him forget the recurring dreams that reminded him that a part of him was not enjoying this. Part of him was still hung up on the events of over a year ago; the death of his mentor and paternal friend, his own brush with death, and a lingering ghost of the maniac that had caused all this. He sighed, glad that he was still facing the screen and that nobody could see the smile on his face dissolve.

 

* * *

 

"What do you mean, it's not effective?" Agent Miller, or M, as he liked to be called by those that shared his passion for vintage cinema, sat down on his upholstered pleather chair. "That's not possible. The serum has literally raised the dead and cured terminal diseases in multiple cases. Its efficacy is not in doubt."

 _"Well, maybe it has degraded, or something,"_ the voice on the other end of the connection argued. _"I've just lost a patient who had received a double dose. I might as well not have bothered. He died, in the exact way he would have died with no intervention at all."_

"That's not possible," Miller repeated himself. "You must have done something wrong, during storage, maybe."

 _"Oh, it's my fault, is it?"_ Dr. Fowler was sounding increasingly peeved. _"I acted entirely as per your own instructions. There was nothing more complicated to it than injecting it into the patient's blood stream, which I did immediately on receiving the serum. No waiting around, no subjecting it to potentially harmful storage conditions, nothing. It simply didn't work."_

"That's not -"

_"Don't say it. Tell you what, I've got one more patient due to receive your miracle cure, so there'll be one more chance for it to prove that it's worth all that money. But it had damned well better work. I don't have to tell you that my patient's relatives went to great financial lengths to get at that serum. I'll probably have a lawsuit on my hands as it is, and I'll be happy to share the load."_

The line went dead.

Miller sighed. That was the third such report he had received during the last 24 hours - too many by now to be an accident or an error. Something was definitely wrong with the serum.

With his connections, he was not afraid of lawsuits, but losing money over this was out of the question. He opened another line, this one secured and encrypted. "Santana."

An interminable number of seconds passed. _"Yes, M?"_ The voice was accompanied by the characteristic sound of static of a deep space connection.

"Another complaint. Please tell me that you have enough frozen samples left to at least satisfy my existing customers."

There was a pause. _"Well..."_ Another pause. _"We've looked into the problem. It seems that the healing factor in the serum - what we have identified as such so far, that is - isn't there anymore, in any of the samples. Including those that were in deep-freeze storage."_

Miller bit back a curse. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. "Then there is degradation. Dammit. Who knows how many useless samples of the serum are still out there now, waiting to bite us in the ass?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We've got to call everything back, and we need serum from fresh blood as replacement. Lots of it. Immediately." He sighed. "We have no choice. We've got to defrost the subject."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. _"We still have no idea what exactly he's capable of,"_ Santana finally said. In his defense, he did not sound scared - merely practical. Then again, Miller had known the man for longer than this current project existed, and he knew very well that Santana did not scare easily.

Miller smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "Then you'll have to do everything in your power to prevent us from finding out, don't you?" He thought for a moment, and his smile grew even more ugly. "You might start by killing all the other Augments, before his eyes, preferably while he's incapable of doing anything about it. We know that his fellow freaks are his raison d'être, as it were. Kill them, and he'll have nothing left to fight for."

 _"That'll leave us with just one Augment to get our material from,"_ Santana objected, _"but I see your point. He's the best source, anyway, so we might as well do away with the rest of them. They're a needless security risk."_

"Exactly." Miller composed his face into an expression appropriate for the situation at hand. _"_ You are authorized to terminate the cryogenic state of Khan Noonien Singh, and to take every measure necessary to ensure that he will not escape while you dispose of the other Augments. Also, don't worry about his safety. Your priority is harvesting the maximum amount of blood from him. He's technically not human. Neither is he a member of any race affiliated with the United Federation of Planets. Even better - he's been created artificially, so he has less rights even than an animal. In other words, you can do your worst, and no court in the known universe will convict you."

 

* * *

 

The medical scanner whirred next to Jim's right ear. "Hmm." The whirring transferred to his left ear. "Hm. Hmmm."

"Cut that out, will you?" Jim grumbled. "I keep thinking that I'm going to keel over dead any second when you do that."

McCoy lowered the scanner and looked at him, familiar scowl firmly in place. "You won't keel over, exactly, but your blood pressure's a little high. Glycogen a little low."

"Bones…"

More whirring. "ATP a little low, too."

"In English, please, Bones. If you have to make that thing make that noise."

"I'm saying that you're exhausted, Jim."

"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine." _If all else fails, bluff like hell._

The scowl deepened. "Yes, you are, and no, you're not." McCoy raised the scanner. "This thing is capable of measuring all known biological markers for all sorts of medical conditions, and I'm measuring a significant number of markers present in an exhausted organism right now, so don't try to bullshit me, James Tiberius Kirk. Something's bugging you. If I had to guess, I'd say you're not sleeping."

Now it was Jim's turn to scowl. "I am sleeping."

McCoy's face told him that his friend wasn't buying it.

"Well… most nights," he amended, knowing it was no use. "You caught me after a bad one, that's all."

McCoy held Jim's gaze for a moment, then gestured towards his office. "I'm a doctor, not a psychologist, but I am a good listener."

"Doubt it," Jim grinned, but he did lead the way. God knew this had been going on long enough as it was and nothing had really helped; maybe talking about it would.

They settled down in McCoy's office, and Jim allowed himself a groan as he did so. "It's really nothing, but it's been popping up for a while every now and again, so..."

Bones gestured in a get-on-with-it-I-haven't-got-all-day way.

"It's that Khan business from a year ago." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Not the dying-and-coming-back part, though that does figure occasionally. Bones, this is gonna sound really strange, but I can't get that guy out of my mind. I mean, I hate him. What he did... and how he did it.... He's a homicidal maniac, no doubt about it. And still... He talked to me about having a conscience, doing anything for his crew. I can relate to that part of it. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you guys."

McCoy looked away, clearly remembering Jim's temporary death. "I know."

Jim smiled briefly in apology for the reminder. He found he was grateful for the ear after all. Bones had been right - it did help to talk about it. "We know that Marcus used him, blackmailed him. I've been thinking about what that must have been like for him, how bad it was, really. Just threats? Just holding the lives of his crew over his head? You know what Khan did to Marcus in the end, but I was there. I saw how... savage he was, how full of hate. I can't believe that he would have crushed that man's skull like that just because Marcus talked tough and threatened him and his crew. By that time, he knew his crew was still alive, after all. Bones, can you imagine what it must take to make a man like Khan do your bidding? I sure can't, but I don't think it was just... threats. Or even promises of a new empire, or whatever. Not with this amount of hate."

A nod. Bones was still with him.

"And that's where my subconscious decided to take over production duties of my dreams. It happens maybe once or twice a week. I dream I'm Khan, and I'm Section 31's captive. Don't ask me how come. I'm usually quite happy dreaming about my own life. Maybe it's a side effect of having his blood in me, who knows? Anyway, I dream the most scary, horrifying scenarios you can imagine, and I wake up - and I remember it all, every detail, and I haven't yet dreamed about a single thing happening to him where I go, nah, that can't happen. I mean, he's basically unkillable. A little bit of his blood brought me back from the dead. It would certainly bring him back, too. So, whoever put their mind to it would have, like, an unending arsenal of things to do to him to make him.... pliable, and he'd heal it all, and then they could start over. And Marcus didn't exactly strike me as someone who balked at the unthinkable."

He paused. "I know it's just dreams. Maybe it didn't happen like that. And make no mistake, none of this means that I forgive him for what he did to Pike, and to all those other innocent people. The guy's still a mass murderer, and I don't think he could be trusted not to revert to his old despotic ways if he were let loose. It's in his genes, after all. But if any of the stuff I'm dreaming about is something even remotely like what really happened to him, then I can at least understand his rage. 'Cause I'd've been really pissed, too."

Running out of words, Jim briskly rubbed his hands over his face.

McCoy continued to look at him for a moment longer, then he reached underneath his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. "Strictly for medicinal purposes," he muttered, fooling nobody.

Jim took his glass and rolled it between the palms of his hands before downing the contents in one go.

"So," McCoy began, "this started - when? A year ago?"

"Little later than that, but yeah. Essentially."

"So why are we only talking about this now?"

Jim shrugged. "I didn't think it was important enough to talk about. I mean, everybody dreams, right? And in our line of work, everybody dreams about strange things. So I dream about getting tortured. No big deal." He frowned. "You don't think this is something to worry about, do you? He couldn't be influencing me, or anything, right? He's on ice."

"Last we heard, yeah," McCoy said, giving them both a re-fill. "Indefinitely. Until his cryotube fails, I suppose."

Jim smiled unhappily. "Yeah." _A death sentence, even if nobody had the guts to say so._ He downed his second shot. "Thanks, Bones. That helped, and I don't just mean the booze. But you know how it is. Duty calls."

He walked out, swagger somewhat restored, McCoy's thoughtful gaze following him all the way to the door.

 

* * *

_Personal log, Dr. Santana reporting._

_I have revived subject BB01 as per instructions. The thawing process was performed according to the procedure appended in log annex C, and though the subject clearly experienced some distress, especially at the time when higher brain functions were restored, there were no lasting adverse effects that our sensors could detect._

_I decided that the subject was not to be kept under the influence of any sedatives or narcotics, so as not to impair the quality of blood harvested from him. This necessitated elaborate restraining methods. The subject was clearly distressed when he discovered his current situation and vigorously attempted to escape, which helped with fine-tuning our restraining methods. I am pleased to report that this part of the procedure was terminated without incident._

_As soon as I was satisfied BB01 was secure, the subject was subsequently forced to witness the deaths of his fellow Augments (as ordered by Agent Miller, see appended file). The executions were timed to take place every Earth hour for 72 hours. The subject's continuous struggles to escape his confines resulted in a series of injuries, some of which were quite severe and took more than an hour to heal._

_N.B.: The psychological outcome perfectly conformed to expectations, in that the subject's will appears to be thoroughly broken, which should make subsequent blood harvests as well as the general handling of the subject easier going forward._

_While the subject was still healing, I initiated the first blood harvest. During that time, I made a fascinating discovery. The healing properties of the subject's blood are increased if the subject is experiencing injury during the time of harvest. This effect persists after the blood has been extracted from the subject's body. At the same time, the rate of blood reproduction is increased, no doubt in order to effect healing and to compensate for the blood loss. After double-checking this effect and finding it reproducible and stable, I decided to keep Subject BB01 in a permanent state of injury during harvest, so as to extract particularly efficacious blood at an increased rate._

_Since subject BB01 has perviously survived injuries that would have killed normal humans (see appended Files BB01-001 through 034), the parameters that normally define 'grievous bodily harm' were adjusted to account for his augmented biology. I determined that the rate of blood harvest under these circumstances is in excess of 5 liters per day, which should more than satisfy current demand. The subject is rendered significantly weakened due to the blood extraction as a welcome side effect._

_The strain on the subject's physical resources caused by constant healing necessitate near-permanent supply of nutrients, which I have however decided to forego for the time being in order to deplete the subject's strength further and render him harmless in an effort to protect myself from any accidents._

_Unfortunately, the degradation effect reported by Agent Miller has been confirmed in the newly harvested blood. Indications are that Augment blood is not stable beyond a time period of roughly 30 earth days, after which it loses its healing properties. This necessitates a permanent fresh blood supply._

_I will keep a close log of the subject's physical condition and of relevant blood parameters in order to ensure that a continued good-quality blood supply can be guaranteed. Extrapolating from current data, I think that I can keep the status quo indefinitely, or for several years at least._

 

* * *

 

Jim had decided to put in a few hours in the gym, on the general assumption that this was what the doctor kept ordering anyway and might also help with his current problem. He'd always had three ways of coping - beat something up, have sex, or get drunk. Since sex and booze were out of the question, beating something up it was.

He spent a while thrashing the metaphorical stuffing out of a variety of punching balls. A sparring session with Spock would have been more efficient, but the Vulcan was currently minding the bridge in the captain's absence, and besides, Jim doubted his ego could take the strain at the moment.

He did feel better when he finally decided to call it quits, sweaty and grinning, the exhaustion Bones had diagnosed before a distant memory.

He was just exiting the gym, when he caught sight of Carol Marcus in gym gear, headed in the opposite direction.

"Hi Dr. Marcus," he hailed her. "Going to work off some steam?"

"Captain." She smiled. "I am, yes. At least I hope so."

Something in her tone caught his attention. "Everything all right?" No, he wasn't being nosy. He was being a responsible captain.

"Sure." She smiled again, but now that Jim was looking for it, he could see that her expression seemed just a little bit strained. He also noticed her rubbing a hand along her thigh, the one Khan had broken over a year ago. It might have been coincidence, or no more than an unconscious gesture. After all, she'd had extensive physical rehab - it had been a bad break -, and though the injury had healed with no lasting effects as far as he knew, it could simply still be bothering her.

But taking shots in the dark was something Jim Kirk excelled in. "Hey. How about we meet up sometime, maybe after our next watch? I could use an ear about something."

"'Use an ear'?" she repeated, her accent making the words sound very charming. "Is that a euphemism?"

Jim grinned. "Probably, on some planet we haven't charted yet. But I'm being completely non-euphemistic. Hard to believe, I know, but I really just want to talk."

She nodded. "In that case, I accept. Actually, there's something I could use an ear about as well. Non-euphemistically."

"It's a date, doctor. Euphemistically."

It took two more days, or six shifts, until they finally found a mutually convenient time. They met in the ship's rec room, either one's quarters being a little too euphemistic for them both, and settled in a quiet corner out of the way, each nursing a regulation-compliant drink.

"Well," Jim began.

"Captain -" Carol said at the same time.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. You go first."

She hesitated. "This is going to sound strange, but... You're actually the only person I can talk to about this. Everyone else on this ship either wasn't there, or is too... set in their ways of thinking."

"That's quite a prologue," Jim commented wryly.

"It's quite a topic," Carol said. One of her hands was under the table, and Jim could see that she was using it to rub at her thigh. "I believe you remember what happened last year. Khan."

 _Bingo_ , Jim thought to himself. "How could I ever forget?"

She smiled ruefully. "I know. Well, I haven't either, obviously." She took a breath, visibly making herself go on. "As you know, I have ties into Section 31, and I've been using them to keep track of him, just to make sure that he doesn't... that he won't come after me. And before you ask, yes, I know how that sounds. I've had all the required psych evals and post trauma counseling, so don't start."

He spread his hands. "Furthest thing from my mind."

"Frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you did. It was traumatizing. I don't think I'll ever truly be over it. Anyway, I wouldn't bother you with this if I hadn't heard something strange from my contacts lately." She leaned forward. "Captain, I believe that they've woken him up."

Jim stared at her. "Section 31? But he was sentenced -"

"I know. It's completely irregular. My contact couldn't tell me who was behind it, but they're certain that Khan is awake and being kept in an off-world high security facility operated by Section 31. Access for two persons only. One of them is a Dr. Santana, apparently. Iago Santana. Once I had a name, I was able to find a file, but it's obviously been sanitized. All it says is that he's a medical doctor in the service of Starfleet, trained on Earth, squeaky clean record." She leaned forward. "Captain, he's awake. That means that, sooner or later, he's going to escape."

"Or," Jim said slowly, "it means that Section 31 has him secure. They probably have all the other Augments, too, so they can use that against him like before. And they've been able to study him for a year - two, by now; they should know what he can do. If anyone knows how to hold him secure, it's them." A thought struck. "They may have gotten hold of my mission report, how his blood brought me back, and now they're..."

 _Using him. Again._ Despite everything that Khan had done, that thought didn't sit well with Jim. It struck a little too close to the dreams he'd been having.

" _Experimenting_ on him," Carol finished the sentence. "Doing something to him, in any case. My contact says that money is involved. A lot of money. The logical conclusion is that they're selling his blood. After all, it can literally bring back the dead. It's the most precious substance in the universe."

Neither of them said a word as they let the implications sink in.

"This isn't right," Carol finally said.

"I agree. He's a monster, but this... It's not even about science, it's about money."

"Captain... What are we going to do?"

Jim finished his drink. "Nothing we can do right now, not from this far away. But please, keep me posted. If you hear from your contacts again, let me know."

"Yes, Captain." She, too, finished her drink. "Oh! I'm sorry. There was something you wanted to talk about, wasn't there?"

He smiled. "Turns out it was the same thing."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. He's been on my mind as well. You didn't see him on Kronos, but... Putting aside everything else, I can't help but wonder what an enormous asset he would be if he could be..."

"... Tamed?"

"No. I don't think he can be tamed. But convinced to throw in his lot with us? Who knows. It worked before, for a little while." _Until I ordered Scotty to backstab him._ "In any case, he's a one man army. I'd never have to worry about a landing party ever again if he were on it."

"He's brilliant," Carol added, eyes shining. "The designs he did for my father were simply beautiful. Elegant, efficient and quite deadly."

 _And that's a good summary of the man himself,_ Jim surprised himself thinking. _Woah there, Jimbo, let's not forget that the guy is a former tyrant and war criminal who thinks everyone who's not augmented is inferior and must be eradicated. He couldn't ever be trusted not to have his own agenda. He'll never be a member of your crew. Can you even imagine him taking orders from you?_

"It's a pity he's a homicidal maniac with a superiority complex," Carol echoed his thoughts, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself.

"Absolutely," Jim said quickly.

They avoided each other's eyes.

"Well," Jim finally said. "I'll be hearing from you."

 

* * *

 

The lab was mostly silent.

In this particular lab, silence was a good thing, Santana mused. Only the muted hum of electronic equipment was audible. No sounds of things crashing, rending, being smashed into walls, no screams of people being brutally murdered could be heard.

Those sounds, however, were what a small part of Santana's mind kept expecting to hear each morning when he left the elevator that deposited him in the lab level, no matter how elaborate the restraining methods on BB01 might be. He had seen the lab data. BB01 remained outside of the scope of experience of Section 31. Having been exposed to the subject's peculiarities for more than 24 months now made no difference. Whoever had designed BB01 had truly created a fighting machine that was as close to invincible as a flesh-and-blood organism could possibly be, and Santana vividly regretted that he would never be able to meet the geneticist of a long gone age that had designed the Augment.

No matter what he did to the subject, BB01 did not die. At least not permanently. A few times, Santana had overdone it a bit, and the computer in charge of monitoring the Augment's vital signs had indicated that life had ceased. Each time, BB01 opened his eyes and breathed again not ten minutes later. Santana was inclined to believe that the subject had withstood all these events with all faculties intact (he hadn't been able to verify this due to BB01 not having spoken a word since the other subjects were killed before his eyes), since brain activity had resumed unchanged both times.

For three solid weeks now, BB01 had barely moved, his increasingly emaciated frame beginning to resemble a dead body. His eyes remained half-open and unfocussed in his sunken face, not tracking anything, which added to the effect. To top it off, the subject only marginally responded to stimuli anymore. All in all, Santana was convinced that his tactics had worked and BB01 had ceased to be a danger, which was why the security cameras had not been active in days. It made him feel less self-conscious about his methods.

"Let's see what I can do to you today," he said as he approached the bare metal medical bed BB01 was bolted to. "Time for another harvest, and variety is the spice of life. There's got to be a bone in your body I haven't broken yet, though I doubt it."

A spike in the subject's adrenaline reading was Santana's only warning. Next thing he knew, BB01's eyes snapped open, ice blue and _aware_ , and then his right arm was free, the fastenings around it ripped clean out of the bed, bolts and all. And _there_ was the noise Santana been afraid of. It was his last conscious thought before bloody fingers closed around his neck, fast as a snake, and _ripped_.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Kirk was playing Spock in one of their customary 3-D chess matches when the intercom hailed him. _"Captain? Carol Marcus here. That event we talked about has occurred. Can we talk?"_

Intensely aware of Spock's curious gaze on him, Jim answered, "Sure. Meet me in the mess hall in ten minutes."

_"Um, Sir? I'd rather that this be completely private."_

Jim could practically hear Spock's eyebrow rise. "Fine. My quarters, then."

_"I'll be there. Marcus, out."_

After a pregnant pause, Spock said, "I take this to mean that our game will not be played to its inevitable conclusion, Captain."

Jim smiled apologetically. "Not today, no. And the conclusion is not quite so 'inevitable' as you seem to think, Spock."

"I rather doubt that." The Vulcan glanced at the board, memorizing, Jim knew, the layout of the pieces before rising to his feet. "I am going to 'wipe the floor with you', as I believe the phrase goes."

"Nice one, but no. You may already have calculated all possible outcomes to the game as it stands, but I've got something you're not allowing yourself to have."

Spock looked at him impassively, and took the bait. "And what is that?"

"The human factor. The thing that makes your calculations unreliable. I already know I can't win against you using logic and strategy, so I'm going to draw out the rug from under you, metaphorically, by being unpredictable. You'll see."

Spock's lips stretched in the ghost of a smile. "I am looking forward to it, Captain." He hesitated, and Jim could feel him formulating a question with regards to Carol Marcus and her business here, but forturnately, Vulcan delicacy prevailed over Vulcan curiosity, and he left with nothing more than a polite inclination of his head.

Jim slumped in relief. As much as he hated keeping things from his friend, he was sure he could anticipate the Vulcan's reaction if Jim so much as mentioned Khan.

Five minutes later, a buzz indicated Jim's new visitor.

"I received a call not fifteen minutes ago," Carol burst out as soon as the door had closed behind her. "He's escaped. Four people are dead. Apparently, he managed to steal a spacecraft and is now at large."

Jim sat down and waved for Carol to do the same. "So much for Section 31 knowing what they're doing," he commented. "Dammit. Now we've got a vengeful Augment on the run to deal with. Section 31 have sent a vessel after him, I suppose?"

"It's not quite so simple. The ship he fled in was found nearby, empty and cannibalized, and in it were, and I quote, 'the smoking remains of a transwarp beaming device'. He must have built it from parts of the ship and set it to self-destruct after use." Her voice conveyed her admiration at the feat.

"So he could be anywhere."

"Basically. But apparently, Section 31 also found enough data in the remains of the device to make an educated guess. My contact doesn't have the results of that guess, but we can make our own. Seems he's gone too far for Section 31 ships to reach him in a reasonable time, so they're sending the USS Bradbury, which is reportedly in the general area."

Jim snorted. "Captain Abbott won't know what hit him. I wonder what kind of briefing they gave him."

There was a thoughtful silence, during which Jim silently told himself to not do what he was considering doing. It didn't help that Carol was looking at him expectantly.

"Dammit!" Jim shook his head at himself. Of course he was going to do it. He'd known he'd do it as soon as the thought had crossed his mind. "Can we narrow down Khan's location, Carol?"

She smiled approvingly. "I took the liberty of cross-referencing the information from my contact with the Bradbury's current mission parameters before coming here, Sir. It's not a very dense area of space. There's only one solar system with a Class M planet that seems feasible." She handed him a PADD.

Jim looked at it and cursed again. "Dammit all. I need someone to talk me out of this." He handed her back the PADD and punched the intercom. "Spock, Dr. McCoy, please meet me in my quarters, stat."

"It's the right thing to do, Captain," Carol began.

But Jim raised a hand. "I don't think there is a 'right' or 'wrong' thing in this case. The fact remains that Khan's a convicted criminal, and aiding a criminal is a criminal offense. With that said, Carol, I'd suggest that you leave before Bones and Spock get here. I don't want you or your contacts to get in trouble over this."

She drew herself upright. "Captain. Admiral Marcus was my father, and he was colluding with said criminal. I already am in trouble by association. Why do you think I was transferred to the Enterprise for this mission? They wanted me as far away from Earth as possible so I could not implicate Section 31 any more than I already have. This whole thing - Khan's trial, his sentence, the fact that Section 31 unfroze him -, it's all been swept under the carpet. There wasn't a fair trial, and his sentence is really a death sentence, which is illegal. You're right - there's no right or wrong here. Everyone who played a role in this is guilty of something. So all we have is our gut feeling, and my gut is telling me that handing Khan back to Section 31 is wrong."

The door had swished open during her last sentence, revealing the First Officer and Ship's Surgeon, who had obviously both caught the gist and were looking at each other with varying degrees of astonishment.

"Gentlemen, come in," Jim said before either of them could get a word out.

"Khan?" McCoy echoed when the door had closed again. "I thought he was on ice?"

In a few words, Jim brought his two senior officers up to speed. "All other considerations aside," he concluded, "I submit that holding a sentient being captive and draining him of his blood is morally wrong. We know where he is. I intend to go there and get him before the Bradbury reaches him."

"Captain -"

"Jim!" McCoy began at the same time as Spock. "I'm as disgusted as you at the implications, but have you really thought this through? The man's a mass murderer! Have you forgotten what he did to Pike, to San Francisco, to this ship? What the hell do you intend to do with him, even supposing this harebrained scheme of yours works and we do find him first? Let him take over the Enterprise? Because that's what he's gonna try to do!"

"Dr. McCoy is correct," Spock said, garnering himself a surprised look from the ship's doctor. "Khan has proven that he cannot be trusted, and that he does not hold the lives of any beings he perceives as inferior to himself in any regard. Bringing him aboard this ship would endanger not just her crew, but, in the event of a takeover, possibly other planets and even Starfleet itself, should he decide to use this ship to exact his vengeance."

"I agree there is a risk," Jim said, "but let's not condemn the guy for crimes he has not committed. Also, I think you're overestimating him. Taking over this ship single-handedly isn't exactly easy. Besides, Spock, you managed to take him down single-handedly last time, so it's not like he's this invincible monster that cannot be contained."

"I did have some help, Captain. Also, you yourself just stated that he escaped a Section 31 high-security facility," Spock said.

"… While in less than perfect physical condition, probably," McCoy added.

Spock and McCoy eyed each other. "This is very weird," McCoy muttered. "Quick, Spock, disagree with me about something. I'm getting the heebie-jeebies."

Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Anyway, what this really is about," McCoy went on after a pause, "is that Jim here has taken a shine to this superman from another time and wants him for himself."

Jim gaped at him. "That's not…" he began, then fell silent. _Can it really be as simple as that?_

"At least be honest with yourself, Jim," McCoy said, with some heat. "He impressed you when he took out the Klingons like it was nothing and then barely blinked when you tried to batter him into a pulp. Then there's the whole 'my crew is my family' thing that the two of you practically bonded over. Plus, you owe him your life. He saved you from the Klingons, he saved you during the space jump, and his blood saved you from radiation poisoning. Also," he briefly looked at Spock and Carol before fixing his gaze on Jim again - "remember what you told me a few days ago? You're obsessed. Have been for a while. You're not objective about this at all."

"Objectively speaking," Spock picked up his cue, "there is no need for the Enterprise to interfere at all. Section 31 will re-capture the criminal and rectify their mistake without our help."

Jim bit his lip. _Well, you did want them to talk you out of this._

"Captain." Carol Marcus, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke up. "I just received this." Her voice sounded odd. She called up an image on her PADD, which she handed to Jim. "Apparently, this was taken from Section 31 security footage about two weeks ago."

JIm stared. The image showed the supine, naked body of a man, thin to the point of emaciation, deathly pale skin mottled with multicolored bruises in various stages of healing, his arms, legs, and torso secured to the bare metal he was lying on by crude shackles that were bolted fast. Blood caked the shackles and the limbs they covered. His right hand was all but crushed in a vise, the fingers bent unnaturally and swollen, clearly broken. The man's dark hair was mottled and unkempt, his eyes half open, his mouth slack. The bed was tilted backwards so that the man was canted head-first towards the ground, and a dark red tube was attached to his neck.

It actually took him a moment to recognize Khan, and when he did, his stomach seemed to drop out and his ears popped. He closed his eyes and deliberately breathed in and out once before meeting the concerned looks of his friends and handing the PADD to Spock. "We're going to get him, and this is why."

Spock looked at the image with a twitch in his stoic expression, which, for him, was almost a shout of dismay. "I agree," he said after a moment. "With reservations."

Jim nodded, lips tight. "So noted."

McCoy grabbed the PADD from Spock. "Holy -" He frowned down at the image, zooming in and focusing on the monitoring equipment next to the metal bed. "BP 50 over 10? That indicates massive blood loss, and those readings… My God. He's barely alive."

"So you agree?" Jim asked.

McCoy nodded, visibly shaken. "Yeah, I agree. This is monstrous. I'm ashamed to be a human being if my fellow humans are capable of something like this."

Jim looked at both his friends in turn. "Then we're all agreed - and while we're aware that this isn't a democracy, I'm glad to have your support. We're embarking on an illegal and dangerous course of action that will almost certainly land us in trouble one way or another sooner or later. It's not clear who the monster is here, or indeed if there are many monsters here or none at all, but I don't think there is any doubt that this -" he pointed at the PADD in McCoy's hand - "is something we can't allow to go on."

He took the PADD and called up the information on Khan's location, then he opened the intercom. "Mr. Sulu, plot and set a course for Beta Octantis III, maximum travel speed. And have all department heads convene in the briefing room."

 

* * *

 

Thirteen hours later, the Enterprise established orbit around Beta Octantis III. Following extensive changes to the ship's security system, Jim was satisfied that they were as prepared to take an augmented warlord aboard their ship as they ever would be.

"Scanning the planet's surface now, Captain," Spock reported from his station. "Preliminary data suggests that indigenous life has not evolved beyond primitive mammalian equivalents - no sentient life or signs of civilization detected as yet. In theory, this should make our target easy to find. In practice, we are looking for a single life sign. At worst, a full surface scan will be required, which will take up to three hours and thirty-seven minutes."

Jim nodded. "ETA of the Bradbury?"

"Out of range of our long-range sensors. We don't have her exact position, but it's safe to say she'll be at least four hours," Sulu said.

"Right. Spock, you have the con. Uhura, have the landing party stand by. We'll have to move fast if we want to avoid being detected by Bradbury's sensors."

It took another three hours before they had a position. The transporter effect released them, and Jim blinked in the alien sunlight of an untouched planet.

"A single humanoid life sign approximately 90 meters in this direction," McCoy said, looking up from his tricorder and pointing. "Very weak. Completely unlike his vitals when we had him aboard at that time. Might not even be him."

"Who else can it be?" Jim said rhetorically.

Jim, McCoy, and six security guards set off through a terrain of waist-high grass, here and there dotted with low, coniferous vegetation, gently rolling hills just barely barring the view towards the horizon. All in all, Jim thought, not a good place to try to hide in.

Twenty meters away from their target, Jim indicated for the security detail to spread out and cast a questioning glance at McCoy.

"Readings unchanged. He seems to be unconscious, but these readings are so far out of normal human range that it's difficult to tell."

Jim signaled the security detail to be on guard and followed his own advice by drawing his phaser.

Then McCoy pointed towards a tree. And there he was.

Khan was sitting with his back leaning against the narrow trunk, head listing to one side, eyes closed. Disconcertingly, a dark trail of blood ran from one corner of his mouth down his neck. The skeletal, unkempt figure dressed in ill-fitting medical garb was almost unrecognizable. Except for the hair color, there was no resemblance to the regal, physically imposing Augment Jim had witnessed taking out an entire Klingon squad single-handedly.

Fighting down a strange surge of emotions, Jim trained his phaser on the figure and approached. "Khan!"

The reaction was instantaneous. With a snap, the head was upright, eyes open, and then the man scrambled to his feet with an outburst of strength belying his emaciated appearance, roaring and hurling himself towards Jim.

Jim brought his phaser to bear and would have fired if not for McCoy's shout: "Don't fire! Nobody fire! You'll kill him!"

By then, Khan had reached him, launching himself at Jim in an attempted full-body tackle. Jim had a confused impression of the man's rage-distorted features from close up, eyes bloodshot, cheeks sunken, lips dark red with dried blood. They impacted, and Jim instinctively wrapped his arms around Khan, immobilizing the Augment's arms against the panting, too-thin body, and let himself be thrown backwards by the momentum, holding the man tight and dragging him down with him, expecting to get at least a rib or two broken and hoping like hell his neck would remain intact.

Instead, Khan's roar gave way to a sound somewhere between a sob and a groan, and he went limp in a heap of bones and sinews on top of Jim, his head falling heavily against Jim's shoulder.

Confused, Jim looked up from his supine position at McCoy, whose face was just entering his field of vision. "Bones? What just happened?"

McCoy knelt next to them while Jim began to extricate himself out from under the unmoving Augment. "Exhaustion doesn't begin to cover it. He's finished. Depleted. By all rights, he should be dead. A single stun charge would have killed him. I'd say he's lost consciousness because he simply overexerted himself." He ran his scanner over the Augment who was lying half-supported against Jim's upper body, frowning down on his tricorder. "Indications of severe internal trauma virtually all over."

As the scanner whirred next to Khan's ear, Jim's head was abruptly snapped back; he saw stars and Bones was shouting.

"Stop it, dammit, you'll kill yourself, man!"

Jim's vision came back to Bones holding one of Khan's wrists and actually managing to immobilize it with one hand. "Khan!" Jim shouted, "we're not going to hurt you. Calm down!"

Wild eyes met Jim's. There was no recognition in them, only fear and rage, and then the Augment wrenched his hand free from McCoy's grasp with an effort that clearly cost him, as he ended up doubled over, coughing and spitting out fresh blood, before resuming his wild attack on Jim.

Or trying to. Figuring it had worked before, Jim again caught him in a bear-hug and held on while McCoy hunted through his supplies for a tranquilizer, muttering about having to be careful with the chemicals.

The muscular struggles in Jim's arms ceased abruptly. Thinking Khan had once more lost consciousness, Jim loosened his grasp and laid him back onto the grassy ground.

Nearly translucent lids opened and familiar eyes, startlingly blue amidst grimy skin and blood-shot sclera, met his. "Kirk…?" The deep voice was weak and hoarse, like something that has been used for nothing but screaming in far too long.

"Yeah." Jim returned the searching look steadily. "It's me. We're not Section 31."

Khan looked at him for a minute longer, panting as though he just had run a marathon, his expression for once unguarded. Jim could see a quick succession of confusion, relief, and worry cross the haggard features. Then Khan closed his eyes and visibly forced himself to calm. "They will not be far. I… ask asylum."

Jim relaxed and nodded at the security team. "Stand down."

Jim's communicator cut in, signaling an incoming transmission. "Kirk here."

 _"Captain,_ " Spock's disembodied voice said, _"the USS Bradbury has just entered sensor range."_

"Understood. They're early. Stand by to beam us back. And have sickbay prepare for a patient. Kirk, out."

"Jim," McCoy interjected, "beaming might put too great a strain on him in his current state."

"Irrelevant," Khan spoke up from his position on the ground, still breathing heavily.

"You could die, man!"

The pale lips stretched into a humorless smile. "I've died a dozen times over. Once more will hardly matter."

Jim raised the communicator to his mouth, but Khan's voice stopped him.

"Do you grant me asylum, Captain?"

"Do you give me your word of honor that you won't try to take over my ship?" Jim countered.

"You're assuming that my word will bind me." The deep voice was still much too weak to convey its usual gravitas, but the familiar condescension was in full force.

Jim smiled ruefully. "Trust has to start somewhere. Yeah, I'm assuming, and I'm granting you asylum. But I certainly won't be giving you the run of the ship, so…"

Khan closed his eyes and nodded weakly. "You have my word, for what it's worth to you. Now let us begone."

 _Giving me orders, huh?_ Jim shook his head. "Spock, have us beamed back now, and go to warp as soon as we're aboard."

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

When the transporter effect released them, Khan was dead.

Leonard McCoy, feeling both vindicated and dismayed, stepped back from the motionless Augment and yelled orders at his medical team, who were waiting for them in the transporter room. They immediately took charge of Khan and transferred him to sickbay under McCoy's watchful gaze.

"Put a heating blanket on the medbed, and have another one ready to cover him," Leonard ordered as the entourage entered sickbay. "Set them both to 38 degrees Celsius." _Damned if I know how he pulls this resurrection thing, but I'll bet it's easier to come back if his body doesn't chill out too much while he's dead._

His staff hopped to it satisfyingly quickly, and, even more satisfyingly, the security guys stayed out of the way. Normally, Leonard objected to red shirts in his domain, but, considering who his patient was, this was one time he was glad for their presence.

"I hope you won't kill anyone this time," he grumbled, glaring down at the currently dead Augment.

Khan chose this moment to take a breath, and another one. Leonard nodded at one of the redshirts to take a step or two closer, just in case. Not out of any sort of paranoia, mind you - he just really liked his neck intact.

Khan opened his eyes, saw Leonard, the security guard, and struggled to sit up.

"Oh no, don't. Just don't," Leonard said, putting both hands on the Augment's shoulders to hold him down. "You're in sickbay, and you're here for a reason. For your information, you were dead for almost ten minutes, and it'll take even you a minute or two to recover from that." Surprisingly - or not so surprisingly, considering -, it took no effort at all to prevent any movement from his unlikely patient.

"Don't touch me," Khan forced out, his voice much too weak to convey any real threat, eyes wide as they fixed on Leonard.

Frowning, Leonard removed his hands and nodded at the guard to take a step back. He could see that his mere presence was distressing for patient; physical contact was only going to aggravate that. It was always hard for Leonard to keep up his antagonism in the face of physical suffering. Apparently, even mass-murdering ex-tyrants were not exempt from this. "Okay, okay. Stay put. I'm just going to take a few readings. Completely non-invasive."

Khan's eyes followed his every move. Leonard could tell even without the help of his scanners that the man was as agitated as his condition allowed, which was soon confirmed by the readings. "There's barely enough blood in you to keep your heart beating," he said, concerned almost against his will. "You really got to calm down. Your system can't take any strain right now. Just relax and breathe. Nobody's gonna harm you in here. I'm just going to give you concentrated nutrients and set up a saline infusion."

"No."

"You won't even feel it."

"I said no!"

The readings spiked, making Leonard grit his teeth. "Seriously. Calm down, or you'll pass out again, or worse. Look, I know you don't trust me, but I'm a doctor, and I'm here to help. If I don't give you anything now to replenish your physical resources, you won't be able to get better for a while. Your system simply doesn't have anything left to work with."

Khan closed his eyes. "I don't need help. I never have. Don't touch me. Leave me alone."

"Believe me, there's nothing I'd rather do, but you're my patient, as ridiculous as that sounds, and I've got a job to do."

There was no response except fast, shallow breathing.

Leonard realized that Khan had lost consciousness. "Told you so," he said softly, but there was no satisfaction in it.

 

* * *

 

While McCoy's team took Khan's currently dead body away, Jim had left for the bridge to take care of ship's business. They evaded the Bradbury's sensors easily enough - Bradbury Class vessels fortunately did not have the sensory equipment of Constitution class vessels. When they were clear, Jim directed his ship back to its old position to resume the interrupted mission. All the while, the sight of the lifeless Augment remained heavy on his mind, which made focusing on his job more difficult than he was used to.

But this shift, too, ended eventually. As soon as it did, Jim made for sickbay, acutely aware of Spock's gaze on him as he left the bridge, only to find himself headed off at the door to the darkened room where Khan was being treated.

"He's alive, but this latest bout of coming back from the dead has used up all the magic," McCoy said sotto voce. "He's healing about as fast as a normal human would, still bleeding internally, not responding to my regenerators, too weak to even breathe on his own. I have no idea how to jumpstart his augment healing. I have started him on intravenous feeding, nutrient concentrates, but it's doing fuck all. His stress levels are still far too high. He keeps losing consciousness, which doesn't help him heal, but on the upside, it did give me a chance to set him up with the nutrients and the respirator. When he's awake, he won't even let me touch him. I don't want to sedate him in his current state, but if I don't, I don't think he's going to let me treat him." McCoy's voice conveyed his frustration.

"Can you tell what happened to him?"

McCoy exhaled noisily. "Well. Transwarp beaming over this distance did a lot of tissue damage, which is why he's so messed up inside. He was injured repeatedly before that, though, for at least several months. Multiple bone fractures in various stages of healing. Extensive burns. Massive bruising. Evidence of repeated systemic shock. And, of course, damage due to massive and sustained blood loss. His kidneys have all but shut down. What happened to him? We saw the image. He was systematically tortured over a period of several months. It's a miracle he's not gone stir crazy."

Jim approached the bed. Its occupant had been washed and was now covered by a thermal blanket, and, freed from all the grime and blood, even in the dimmed light, he was looking even more frail and cadaverous than he had in the sun of that alien planet. What was visible of his normally pale skin was discolored by bruises. A respirator covered nose and mouth; his eyes were closed, but he did not seem at rest - his hands lay on his chest, fingers curled into interlocking fists, and now and again, his eyelids twitched.

In that moment, it ceased to matter to Jim that this was the man who had killed Christopher Pike and all those innocent people. Instead, all Jim could think of was the naked figure in the image on Carol's PADD with his hand crushed in the vise.

Impulsively, Jim reached out and took one limp hand in his own. The skin was cold despite the heating blanket, fingers twitching faintly, so Jim added a second hand and tried to warm the flesh between his hands, stroking the long, slim fingers and trying to convey that this touch was not intended to inflict pain.

As he'd had half expected, green-bue eyes snapped open, looked at the hand held between JIm's and then at Jim's face with an expression of confusion.

 _I wonder how often he's been touched with kindness since he woke up in our time_ , Jim found himself thinking. "You're safe now," he said, keeping his voice low. "Don't try to speak. That thing on your upper arm is feeding you nutrients. My ship's doctor says you're as good as dead, so you should probably not move too much."

That, of course, was the moment when Khan noticed the respirator covering his face. His eyes widened in alarm.

Jim felt the fingers he held grasping his. "And that thing is helping you breathe," he said, returning the slight pressure in an effort to reassure. "It's not a torture device, I swear. It's there to keep you alive. Just relax. You're safe. You need to relax and heal. Just focus on that for now."

The ice blue eyes bored into Jim's in a strange mixture of warning and pleading, Khan's free hand balling into a fist and curling over his own abdomen in a protective gesture, chest heaving. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jim could see a number of telltales change from green to red.

McCoy appeared from behind Jim, grumbling, "For God's sake, could you please just lie still? I mean, how hard can it be? Just lie still, breathe evenly, and try to go to sleep! Passing out doesn't count as sleeping, you know, and getting yourself worked up until you conk out is actually counter-productive. If you're so much better than us, you really should be able to get that. Superior, my ass."

Still grumbling, McCoy adjusted the blanket covering the supine Augment, and Jim wondered if Bones, too, was remembering the thin naked figure on the bare metal bed, helplessly exposed to everything that had been done to him.

"I know you're in a lot of pain," McCoy continued, "but I can't give you anything right now, not with your liver and renal functions being the way the are. But now you're awake, I'm setting up a saline infusion. You need more volume, and fast. When I tried earlier, you fought me as though I was trying to murder you, which was pretty impressive, considering that you were unconscious at the time. Please don't do that anymore, okay? I'm only trying to help."

The doctor kept up his monologue as he worked, side-stepping Jim who was still holding one of Khan's hands. The Augment was watching every move McCoy made, breathing fast, mouth half open under the respirator, and Jim guessed from the twitching of the thin fingers he was holding in his hand that Khan was in fight-or-flight mode and only lying still through force of will.

"Khan. I promise we're not working for Section 31," Jim said, reaching out to tuck the thermal blanket in tighter around the Augment in an attempt to convey at least the illusion of comfort and security. "You're safe here. You asked asylum, and you're getting it. We'll see to it that Section 31 won't find you. You have my word on that."

Khan transferred his piercing gaze from McCoy to Jim and held it there, unblinking. Jim fought to hold eye contact under the intense scrutiny, feeling as though his mind was being probed. McCoy, too, realized that something important was happening, and he stopped what he was doing to wait for whatever it was to play out.

Finally, Khan seemed to find what he had been looking for. He nodded once, and his eyes drifted closed.

Jim blinked and looked at McCoy, eyes not quite watering. "Go ahead."

McCoy threw Jim a couple of sidelong glances while he worked, but did not say anything, for which the captain was grateful. He had no idea what had just happened, or what was still happening. Why did Khan trust him like that? Why was Jim feeling so compelled to help the Augment? Because he was feeling pity for him? Jim didn't have to be here, after all. Caring for their patient-slash-prisoner-slash-asylum-seeker was not his job. And yet, he wanted to be here. Was he doing it out of pity, or because he was feeling some kind of kinship? Or was it something else entirely?

Whatever the reason, Jim decided that he was going to think about it at some other time. If at all.

Finally, the infusion was in place. Khan was lying back unmoving, frowning and eyeing the device, clearly expecting something unpleasant to happen. Jim let go of the hand he had been holding, placing it underneath the blanket before it could chill out too much and pulling the self-warming fabric in around the Augment's neck.

McCoy watched his monitors for a while, then nodded to himself. Removing the respirator, he looked at their unpredictable guest. "You won't be needing that anymore at least. Your readings are beginning to look better, and by better I mean they're now indicating you're alive. Barely. You're so far from being out of the woods it's ridiculous. Get some sleep, if you can. I'll be over there in my office, and please, try not to be more unreasonable than is absolutely necessary and stay put. You're certainly not fit enough to try to take over this vessel, or even to get out of bed, so don't try it."

The Augment, apparently realizing by now that he was not being poisoned, allowed his scowl to smooth out. His lids lowered but did not close until McCoy had turned away.

"You can trust him," Jim said softly.

Khan's eyes snapped open. "Trust must be earned," he said weakly, striving for his usual measured diction and failing. "For all of us."

"Shh. Don't talk. Let him take care of you. I'll be back later." Jim turned to go, but Khan's voice held him back.

"Captain. The ship Section 31 must have sent after me...?"

"We left the area before they could scan us. They'll search the planet you beamed to, and when they don't find you, they'll report as much and return to their regularly scheduled mission, and that's it for them. Section 31 has no idea where else to look. Nobody knows you're aboard this ship. You're as safe as you can be." Jim grinned ruefully. "Unless you tick off Bones, in which case you're in for a hard time."

The look in Khan's eyes told Jim that it was too soon for this kind of teasing.

"I'm kidding. He's not like all the other doctors you must have met. I trust him with my life, and my sanity."

The Augment closed his eyes, exhausted. "Then I will try to do the same."

Jim nodded. That was all anyone could ask for.

Bones could be heard yelling from his office. "Jim, stop agitating the mass murderer I'm harboring in my sickbay and get back to the bridge and go chase some space pirates, or something!"

Grinning, Jim spread his hands. "I'm gone!"

Khan's bemused gaze followed him out.

 

* * *

 

_Captain's personal log, Stardate 2260.61. I'll delete this entry when I'm finished with it. This is just to clear my head. Sometimes I think better out loud, but this isn't exactly something I can talk over with my crew. They'd think I'm compromised. Hell, I think I'm compromised._

_It's not the first time that I don't know what I'm supposed to do, sure. At least, this is not a life-and-death situation, so there's that. Well, not yet. The fact is that Khan is a criminal, a murderer, a terrorist. There's also the fact that I can understand why he did every single thing he did. I certainly don't agree with his methods, but I can understand his motivations. And I wonder if, in some parallel universe, I wouldn't be in his exact place, having done the things he's done._

_All he did, he did for his crew. Hell, I know I'd give my life for my crew; I'm not sure I'd stop with my own life. Okay, he went on a rampage and killed innocent people just to get at one man. I can only hope that I'd never go this far. But that's a technicality. I understand that man. I feel for him. I can't help but think that, if he'd been woken up in our time by somebody other than Marcus, somebody who, instead, offered him a valuable position in our society, he'd now be a force for good, as cliché as that sounds._

_But all he's encountered is coercion, manipulation, blackmail, violence. And now, torture, humiliation, pain, complete disregard for his person. All the proof anyone needs they'd get from one look at him now. The man's a shadow of himself. It's actually painful to look at him, especially considering what he was like a year ago._

_Is it any wonder that he's lashing out? He must be feeling so helpless, weakened and injured like that._

_All right, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that, if I can prove to him that we're not all like Section 31, he'll somehow... stop... being vengeful and criminal and untrustworthy. Because Bones was right, damn him. I'd love to have Khan as a member of my crew. As a friend. As what's called a 'valuable member of our society'. Because I think he could be._

_And that's crazy. I know. Lest I forget, history tells us he's a genetically engineered superman. A tyrant, made to rule. He's superior, and he knows it. It's in his genes. He'll never be content with playing second fiddle to any one of us lesser beings. Not to me, not to any admiral, not to any head of state. He will only be content being the captain, the admiral, the head of state._

_Or maybe not. Maybe he can choose to go against his genes and decide not to be the one who gives the orders. Has anyone ever given him the chance to prove that he can? Since he woke up, and probably even before he went into cryosleep, he was at war; constantly forced to fight, for his family, for his own life. Nobody knows what he'd be like in times of peace, when nobody tries to use him for his 'savagery'. Maybe he doesn't need to be the king of the mountain then._

_Again, that's crazy. Or so anyone would tell me. But I'm not so sure. I think he can be more than just a warlord._

_Hell. I don't know what I'm trying to accomplish with this entry anymore. Am I trying to talk myself into something, or out of it? I think I'm just going to try to sleep on this._

_I just hope there won't be any of those dreams anymore, now that I know he's safe._

 

* * *

 

Gamma shift had descended on the ship, but Leonard McCoy was still at work. He had a former emperor in his sickbay and a coincidental medical conundrum on his hands, and that somehow made sleep an unattractive alternative.

Sitting at his desk in his office, he frowned at the live readouts from his single patient, not liking what he saw. What he liked even less was that he did not know how to make those readings go back to the impressive values they had been a year ago, not without augmented healing to support his efforts. And that still wasn't happening, despite the infusions and the nutrients.

The monitor showed Khan appearing to be asleep. At any rate, his eyes were closed, his breathing even, if a little fast and shallow. He had turned onto his side, curled up with his arms and legs tucked in against his body, the thermal blanket cocooning him, its corners clutched in his balled fists. The protective position must be painful, considering his internal injuries, but Leonard could not blame him in view of the fact that the man had spent God knew how long on his back bolted to a sheet of metal with his hand in a vise.

The simulation he was running had reached its conclusion; result again negative. Another failed attempt to kick Augment healing into gear. He sighed and reached for his PADD to jot down some notes - a habit he had kept since his days at Med School -, and the stylus rolled across his desk with a barely audible clatter.

There was a gasp from the room next door, and Leonard knew without looking that Khan had jerked awake at the noise, half upright on his bed, ready to attack; whatever benefit he had gained from the few minutes of sleep he had gotten undone in a burst of adrenaline.

This was the fourth time in less than two hours that Leonard, not even in the same room, had inadvertently caused something like that to happen. Add to that the half dozen or so times that Khan had come up fighting out of what Leonard assumed had been a nightmare. All in all, the night was not turning out to be a restful one for Khan, which probably was half the reason why he still was not improving.

Something had to be done. Leonard sighed and got up.

As he walked into the darkened room, a rustling sound came from the bed, startling him, even though he should have been prepared for it. "Lights 30 percent," he said quickly.

By the time the computer had raised the ambient illumination to the specified amount, Khan was lying on his back, for all the world looking like a lazy cat blinking sleepily at the approaching human. If Leonard had not seen his wild eyes on the monitor earlier, he might have bought the act.

As it was, he said bluntly, "You're jumpy, and it's not doing you any good. You need to sleep."

The Augment smiled his supercilious ghost of a smile, further sharpening his prominent cheekbones. "You're one to talk, Dr. McCoy. It's not your shift, yet you are here."

"I'm not exhausted so I can afford it, Khan, and you cannot, that's the difference. Also, your wellbeing is my responsibility. The sooner you decide to go to sleep and stay asleep, the sooner I can leave your care to my minions and go get some shut-eye."

"Your minions trust me even less than you do."

"Whether I trust you or not won't have any bearing on my professional conduct."

Another half smile and a brief widening of nostrils. "You expected an attack from me not thirty seconds ago. I can smell fear on you even now."

Leonard grimaced, conceding the point. "Well, yeah. You're a mass murderer, you tried to blow up our ship, and you caused the death of my best friend. But like I said, it won't make a difference to how I'm going to treat you."

Khan directed his disconcerting gaze at him. "Believe me, if I had wanted to blow up this ship a year ago, we would not be having this conversation now. My intention only ever was to disable it without destroying it, which I did. Also, each time I attacked your Starfleet, I was responding to a prior attack on me or my crew. You, however, are a member of the medical profession who have used me indiscriminately, without provocation, and even now you're secretly salivating at the thought of having me and my blood in your grasp -"

"That is not true."

" - which you are, of course, not going to admit."

"It's not true, dammit! You can't equate me with the bastards of Section 31 just because I'm a doctor! I never did you any harm." Belatedly, Leonard realized that this talk, originally intended to calm Khan down, was having the opposite effect on them both. He took a deep breath in an effort to get back on track. "Look. Clearly, there's a lot of history here, on both sides. But whatever you think of me, I am a doctor, which means that I swore an oath to do no harm. Your blood can hold the answers to all the medical problems currently troubling all species in the universe for all I care. I still wouldn't draw a single ounce from you while you're my patient, unless I need to, to help you, and even then not without your consent. I swore an oath!"

"And I would not harm you unless you attacked me first. I give you my word of honor." The ice blue eyes were blazing. One hand moved out from under the blanket in Leonard's direction, who took an automatic step back, his own hand raised in defense. "And yet, even with this promise, you cringe at my every move. You are suspicious of my intentions aboard this vessel. So is everyone else, with the sole exception of your remarkable captain. That is the true reason why you are still here now, why you will not turn your back on me. Clearly, words alone will not mend this."

Leonard grimaced again. "I guess not. A truce, then. I hear that's what military types use in this sort of situation."

"If you trust me to keep a truce, you can trust me to be a man of honor and keep my word."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

The Augment glowered. "The point is that no matter what promise in whatever formalized way I give you, you will not believe me. The inverse is also the case. Trust must be earned. It can't be bought with words. It's as simple as that."

Leonard scowled unhappily. "So we'll both keep jumping at unexpected noises around each other, then?"

"You could always just leave me alone."

"Not gonna happen." He sighed. "Well, if I put food in front of you, will you at least trust me that it's not poisoned or anything?"

He was subjected to a thoughtful stare. "Yes. You're not the type."

Leonard wondered what type Khan thought he was, then, but he merely said, "Well, thank you. That was rhetorical, anyway. Your insides are still too mashed up for solid food."

Khan closed his eyes. "I'm well aware."

Leonard looked at his patient, noticing the drawn features tight with pain, the minute twitching in the long limbs that seemed to be beyond Khan's control. The Augment was obviously in agony. "Look, I'm sorry," Leonard said more gently. "I didn't come in here to upset you. I'm gonna leave you in peace now. Try to get some rest."

There was a pause. "One can only hope," Khan finally said, very softly.

Still thoughtful, Leonard turned down the lights and left.

 

* * *

 

Entering the Chief Medical Officer's office early next morning, Jim immediately zeroed in on McCoy, who was seated at his desk. "How is he, Bones?"

McCoy peered up at him with the look of a man who had pulled an all-nighter. "And a good morning to you, too, Jim." He rose, stretching and yawning. "Your pet Augment is still here, still alive, and hasn't made any effort to take over your ship. That's the good news." He yawned again. "He's also not slept much, just like yours truly."

Jim had bristled briefly at Bones' 'pet Augment' crack, but let it go in favor of a more important point. "Why hasn't he slept?"

"You might have brought me some coffee," McCoy grumbled.

"For that matter, why haven't you?"

"I was trying to find a way to jumpstart his healing, but I came up empty. That'd be the bad news. He's simply had enough. Seems that even Augments have their limits. You keep hurting them for long enough, and they'll run out of resources and simply stop healing eventually. And once they've stopped, they're as vulnerable as the rest of us. Maybe more, 'cause he obviously doesn't know how to deal with being weak and in pain for longer than a few hours at a time." He nodded at the monitor. "He's trying not to show it, but I'll bet he's ready to jump out of his skin by now. And before you ask, no, I still can't give him anything for it. His liver is barely holding up as it is."

Jim looked at the monitor and saw Khan lying in his bed as before. "So, he hasn't slept because he's in pain?"

"Yeah, in pain, and feeling weak and helpless, which has got to be a new experience for him. It unsettles him enough to not be able to relax in here. Then again, it was a medical doctor who had him. Maybe just being in a medical environment triggers whatever form of Augment PTSD he may have gotten from it."

JIm frowned and nodded. "Makes sense."

"Anyway, I'm recommending that he be moved elsewhere, somewhere that does not have the same connotations for him, the sooner the better. He won't improve much in here. Not while he feels the need to defend himself from this perfectly harmless ship's surgeon."

Wondering what scenes might have played out during the night, Jim nodded again. "I'll have him moved to the modified brig today, then."

"No, today's too early. He's still much too weak. I'll let you know when I think he's up to it. But whenever we do it, you should be there. He trusts you; God knows why, considering the way the two of you tried to beat the shit out of each other back then."

Jim grinned. "Maybe that is why. We've had it out a year ago. We're ready to move on now."

McCoy shook his head. "It must be love. Wonder if Spock feels the same."

Not dignifying that with a response, Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "You go get some sleep." Then he left him to his grumbling and went to see Khan.

The Augment was awake, lying on his side, facing the door. When Jim entered the room, Khan straightened from his near-fetal position, face tight. "Captain."

 _Bones didn't exaggerate. He looks terrible._ "Khan. Bones tells me you haven't slept."

"That doesn't matter." The deep voice still had not regained its former resonance.

"Sleeping would help you heal faster," Jim pointed out.

"Not sleeping won't kill me. I was designed to be able to go without sleep for extended periods of time."

Jim looked at him, wondering what it must be like, to think about oneself as having been 'designed', like a machine. _Does he feel shame for not being able to perform to his specifications?_ "Maybe, when you're at 100 percent. Which you'll be again much faster if you let yourself sleep."

Khan's gaze told him that this argument was getting Jim nowhere.

He decided to change tracks. "Bones also says that you're not at ease in here."

"Very perspicacious of him," Khan said, almost managing his familiar blend of sarcasm and condescension. "He doesn't trust me, and the feeling is entirely mutual."

"Yeah, about that." Jim pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. "It's obvious that this -" he nodded at the room in general - "isn't working, so I'm going to have you transferred to another room that's not in sickbay as soon as you're up to it. There's going to be medical monitoring equipment in there, and of course it's going to have a locked door."

"Of course." Khan shifted position again, compressing his lips in what was not quite a wince. "Captain, I'm quite aware that I'm not welcome here. I appreciate your efforts, but if you were to drop me off on the nearest Class M planet, you would save us both a lot of grief."

"I can't do that. You're barely -"

"Unless, of course, you are wary of releasing the monster back into the wild. Wary of what I'm going to do once I'm free to go wherever I like."

"Well, what would you do if I did let you go?" Jim asked, thinking he already knew the answer. "Go back for your crew?"

These words accomplished what all the trauma Khan had experienced and all the physical pain he was in had not been able to. The stoic facade crumbled, leaving behind an expression of utter misery. "I have nothing to go back for except revenge. They are dead. All of them. Killed before my eyes, one by one." His voice broke on the last word, and he turned his head away, fighting for composure.

Jim was stunned. "My God. I'm so sorry."

Khan did not reply, all his focus on keeping in control, but it was a losing battle. Jim could see tears well up in his eyes before the Augment turned onto his side, curling in on himself.

Then he began to speak, and it took Jim a minute to realize that he was listing names.

"Joaquin. Kati. Otto. Victor." Khan's voice grew more and more unintelligible as he continued the litany, naming all his friends one last time. "Ana. Shoo Jin. Thomas…"

Jim listened helplessly. The impulse to offer comfort was strong, and when Khan finally fell silent seventy-two names later, he reached out a hand and put it on the distraught Augment's shoulder.

He was rewarded with a snarl and an attempt to shake the hand off. "I don't need or want your pity." Khan's voice was thick with tears.

"It's not pity," Jim said gently, telling himself not to take the violent response personally. _He's exhausted, in pain, and grieving. He's lashing out, like a wounded animal, and I happen to be within reach._ "I want to help."

"Leave me alone," Khan growled thickly. "Nothing you can do or say is going to change anything."

"Maybe not, but maybe it'll make you feel a little bit better," Jim insisted, feeling his stubbornness rise, keeping his hand where it was.

"I said, leave me alone. I'm not some pathetic weakling that requires a hug to 'feel better'. I've lost friends before. I'm more than capable of getting through this on my own!" It would have been convincing if Khan's voice had held its usual vibrancy, and if one of the monitors next to his bed had not begun to flash a red light.

Jim hesitated. He wanted to help, but not at the risk of putting more stress on the man.

"Leave!" Khan forced out, loud enough to make his voice break.

"Okay, okay." Jim rose and moved away, to the far side of the room.

For several long minutes, from all the way across the room, Jim watched Khan being consumed by his torment, body heaving and long limbs twitching. More telltales switched to red.

Finally, he had had enough. "Khan. Please. Let me help."

There was no response beyond a ragged breath and a shudder from the blanketed figure on the bed. Jim took this absence of refusal as a positive sign.

A nurse appeared at the door, looking worried, but Jim sent her away with a wave of his hand as he approached the bed.

Khan had turned his face into the pillow, but he did not move away when Jim sat down on the edge of his bed. Carefully, Jim reached out his hand, and this time, when he touched the hunched shoulder, there was no snarl and no evasion.

Encouraged, Jim ran his hand down the Augment's back and up again towards the shoulders. He knew that there were no words that would be adequate in the face of such an enormous loss, so he opted to keep his mouth shut and let his actions speak for him.

Khan, too, had apparently decided that silence was eloquent, wordlessly permitting Jim's touch.

The scene was disturbed by the nurse again appearing at the door. Khan must have heard her step; his eyes snapped open and his body tensed. As Jim could felt his his good work being undone, he began to realize what McCoy had talked about earlier.

A motion of his head once more sent the nurse away, but it took several minutes for the Augment to allow his eyes to close again.

 _You can stop fighting now_ , Jim thought, trying to imagine what it must have been like; what it still was like. He could feel the tension in the body beneath his hand, so he kept up the movements, slowly, hypnotically. _No need to be battle-ready all the time. You're safe here, with me. Let me guard you for a while._

Finally, the ragged breathing that was the only sound in the room slowed, and to Jim's immense relief, one of the telltales switched back to green.

Jim dared to put his other hand onto the Augment's head, fingers threading into the cool strands of dark hair and feeling the warm skin beneath, not moving, just grounding him. The position was putting a strain on his back, so he shifted, pulling himself more fully onto the bed, and still Khan made no move or sound to oppose him.

He looked at Jim, silent, blinking wearily, as his breathing slowly began to calm and even out. His eyes drifted closed. Another red light turned green.

Jim allowed himself to hope that this was going to work. Not saying a word, he kept up the movement of his one hand, watching more warning lights disappear.

At last, Khan lay still and seemed to be asleep, and after a little while longer, Jim stopped his movements and slowly took his hands away. When he slithered off the bed, though,the blue-green eyes blinked open once more and found him. Khan looked at him wordlessly, without moving, and Jim, deciding that he had no urgent business elsewhere after all, sat down on the chair next to the bed, where Khan could see him.

The eyes slowly closed, then opened again.

Jim opened his mouth to say something, stopped himself, and simply reached out his hand. _I'm not going to disappear just because you can't see me anymore when you close your eyes._

For a minute, nothing happened, and Jim could see the battle in Khan's eyes. Finally, exhaustion won out over pride, and the Augment extricated one hand to fold his fingers around Jim's.

They held this tableau, and when Khan next closed his eyes, they remained closed.

 

* * *

 

Khan slept for a couple of hours, and even Jim, with his rudimentary medical knowledge, could see that his readings were improving dramatically. The grip of the Augment's hand had loosened soon after he fell asleep, but Jim held on to the pale, surprisingly slender fingers, encasing them in his own protectively. _Each one of those fingers, each bone in that hand, was broken at least once._

He had begun to doze a little bit himself when the warm hand he held was abruptly yanked out of his grasp. There was a sound of distress; Jim came fully awake to the sight of Khan thrashing on his bed, fighting off invisible attackers. The Augment made another keening sound, flailing violently, getting entangled in the blanket. He tried to evade whatever he dreamed was hurting him and holding him down, almost falling off the bed with his thrashing, his sounds becoming more tormented with renewed pain.

"No, no," Jim said urgently, attempting to pierce the veil of what was obviously a nightmare, "calm down, it's okay. There's nobody here, you're the one hurting yourself. Stop fighting, you're safe." He kept talking, capturing the flailing hands and holding them, not restraining, just giving them something to cling to, and pathetically grateful for the fact that the Augment had still not regained anything near his full physical strength. In the dim light, Jim caught sight of Khan's face contorted in an expression of agony and utter terror. His own visceral reaction was like a punch in the gut.

_If this is what it's been like for him all this time, during all those months, then he's damned well been punished enough._

Another tormented half-shout, and then Khan was awake, freezing mid-thrash, staring at Jim out of eyes wide with fear. Yanking his hands free, the Augment's arm drew back in what Jim was certain would have been a punch aimed at him, but Khan recognized him in time and aborted the movement. With a drawn-out moan, Khan slumped back onto the bed, arms closing protectively around his mid-section, panting with exertion as he forced his trembling limbs to help him roll onto his side, facing Jim.

Neither of them said a word, yet Jim could practically hear Khan's mute plea for help. It was there in the way that he looked at Jim before closing his eyes, in the way he moved his head slightly towards Jim.

 _To be brought to this… to be so hurt and so alone that he must ask an enemy for help...._ Jim found himself physically unable to ignore it. He put one hand onto Khan's back, on the basis that stroking the Augment there had been effective before, and the other hand onto the Augment's head, fingers sliding into the dark hair the way they had before.

It took a while, but, amazingly, it worked. Khan finally calmed down, bunched up muscles relaxing, breath evening out. With a deep exhalation, Khan extricated one hand and put it onto the cover next to his face.

Again, Jim gladly complied with the unspoken plea and took the offered hand in his own, not letting go of it even after the Augment had slipped back into hopefully more restful sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Captain."

The deep voice cut through Jim's dream about something vaguely erotic he had forgotten as soon as he had opened his eyes. He straightened. "Ow." Or tried to. Apparently, sleeping in chairs was even more unforgiving on his neck now than it had been during his days at the Academy. Wincing, he carefully brought his head in an upright position to meet the quizzical gaze of the man who had woken him. "Good morning. Uh, is it? Morning, I mean?"

Khan regarded him with faint amusement. "Your Dr. McCoy has just entered his office accompanied by a strong smell of coffee, so I would say, yes. Provided he's keeping to your established shifts."

"Wow." Jim got up and stretched. "It's been years since I slept this long in a chair." Should I be worried that nobody needed me on the bridge? He looked at Khan. The Augment was lying back on the bed with his upper body elevated, hands loosely interlocked on his belly, the discolorations on his skin visibly faded and no evidence of the night's terrors whatsoever in evidence. "You're looking better. Much better."

"I'm feeling much improved, yes."

"He's almost ready to try taking over this ship," McCoy interjected, entering the room, coffee cup in hand, to lean against the doorjamb. "And I'm almost ready to hand over my shingle to you, Jim. Whatever you did worked wonders."

Jim looked at Khan, half expecting him to tense up again at the sight of the doctor, but the Augment showed no sign of agitation beyond blanking his expression and letting his eyes turn cold. Jim found that he missed the amused warmth he had briefly seen in them. "All I did was be here," he replied, going along with Bones' banter.

McCoy grinned. "I've always been a big proponent of TLC during recovery," he said, taking a sip of coffee and giving Jim something that almost might have been a wink.

Jim resolved to have a serious talk with Bones at their earliest mutual convenience. Those insinuations had got to stop. "So, in your medical opinion, Doctor, can he be moved?" He gave Khan a look to include him in this conversation that was, after all, about him.

"Can, and should," McCoy said. "I don't have any security facilities in here, and frankly, I can't tell from my readings exactly how much he's improved. Augments aren't quite human. I've got no baseline." Bones, too, looked at Khan. "No offense."

The Augment gave him a cool look in return. "None taken. You're making a threat assessment. Very commendable. I'd do the same."

"Well," McCoy said, "since you brought it up, what would you do with, uh, yourself if you were in our position, then? According to your threat assessment?"

Khan's expression did not change. "I would do exactly what I told your captain earlier; I'd maroon the potential threat on the nearest marginally inhabitable planet, to ensure the safety of my crew. Unless, of course, my assessment revealed an imminent danger, in which case I'd eliminate the threat immediately."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "You're saying I should have you killed?"

Ice blue eyes met his. "Captain. You know what I can do. You'd be a fool not to." And there it was, the familiar supercilious cadence Jim remembered from their encounter a year ago.

He looked at the Augment's hands, wondering how much strength they had regained during Khan's rest, and if Jim would be able to hold them immobile now the way he had only a few hours ago. Bones, meanwhile, straightened from his slouch against the doorjamb as if feeling threatened, but Jim found no fear in himself. Instead, he grinned. "I've been called much worse. There'll be no killing you, and no marooning you, but there will be a transfer to a more secure location, for our mutual ease of mind."

Bones was shaking his head. "When this comes back to bite us in the ass, I'd like to be on record for having said that I'm entirely opposed to this whole thing," he grumbled. "I'm calling security. The sooner the ex-tyrant's out of my sickbay, the better." With that, he left for his office, and could soon be heard talking on the intercom.

Jim turned back to Khan. "Well," he said, spreading his arms. "I'm here, I'm unarmed. If you're going to commandeer this vessel, now's the time to take me hostage."

Dark brows moved into an expression of polite curiosity. "What makes you so sure I won't?"

"Nothing, except my gut. It's telling me two things. One, you're not yet in any shape for hostilities; you're very good at posturing, but it takes one to know one. And two, you're not stupid - you've realized by now that you can accomplish your goal more easily by allying yourself with us."

The Augment's face remained unchanged. "Interesting. What, in your opinion, is my goal?"

"Revenge," Jim said immediately. "For what's been done to you, and to your crew."

"If I had your ship, I could certainly do that more easily," Khan pointed out.

Jim shook his head. "This is not the Vengeance - the Enterprise can't be piloted by one man. You know this, of course. You know that you need the willing cooperation of quite a large number of my crew. There'd be no way you could coerce so many of them to help you, even if you took me hostage. The ship's intruder defense systems leave too many ways to take you out. Plus, there's Spock. He'd fight you to the death if anything happened to me again. All in all, too many risks, and it's a long journey back to any Section 31 base. So, sweet-talking us into helping you would be the better alternative, strategically speaking."

Now, Khan smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, making his expression go from coldly observant to charming and approachable in a split second - the face of the charismatic ruler he had been long ago. It did something unexpected to Jim's insides. "You truly are a remarkable individual," the Augment said, sounding as sincere as Jim had ever heard him be. "I begin to understand why you inspire such loyalty in your crew."

 _Is it getting warm in here?_ "Well, thank you," Jim said, smiling modestly. _I'm hoping I can inspire the same loyalty in you._

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

Khan insisted on walking to his new accommodation rather than being carried. Jim assumed that the Augment just wanted to prove Jim wrong on his claim that he was posturing, which would, of course, merely be another form of posturing.

McCoy, however, disagreed. "He's fully capable of taking you out by now, Jim," he had warned Jim before they left sickbay. "During the last thirty minutes alone, I'd say all his injuries have healed by about 50 percent, and that's more than enough for him to be dangerous. I guess he'll be back to being his invincible self in an hour or so. We'd be crazy to think that we're in control of him anymore."

Well, there was trust, and there was Standard Operating Procedure. Ruefully, Jim had ordered Khan to be surrounded by a full armed security detail during the transfer; the only thing that was different from last time was the fact that he was not handcuffed. But despite all this, deep down Jim still did not believe that Khan was about to take over his ship.

Of course, Spock differed. As soon as Khan was settled in, the Vulcan paged Jim and demanded a private meeting, and Jim, realizing that there was no way he'd get around this, agreed.

"You are aware of the danger Khan Noonien Singh is posing to this ship, I assume," Spock began. "In view of this fact, I fail to understand your current course of action. You are putting this ship and her crew in unnecessary peril."

Jim hesitated. He knew that he needed Spock's approval on this. If he was going to do the thing he did not allow himself to acknowledge he was considering doing, he needed his friend by his side. It did not help that he was basing his decision on nothing more than a gut feeling, something that a Vulcan was ill-equipped to understand. "Yes, Spock, I'm aware that he's a danger. A potential danger. Big difference."

"I do not see your meaning, Captain."

"Well, we all know what he can do. He's a one-man army. But that doesn't mean that he has to actually go and be that army."

Spock folded his hands in front of him, clearly ready to debate this to its conclusion. "Neither does it mean that he will not. We are not aware of his true plans. Nor can we ever be, whatever he may state his intentions to be."

"You don't think he'll keep his word?"

"Indeed not. Sworn oaths are only binding for honorable persons. He has caused the deaths of thousands of innocents. No honorable person would even have contemplated such a course of action."

Jim sighed. "Whatever, I simply don't think it's in his best interest to engage us in hostilities at this point."

"Maybe not at this point. But it is reasonable to assume there will come a time when this is no longer the case, when he will become our enemy."

"Again, that's an assumption." Jim grimaced. "You're assuming he must, inevitably, go up against us at some point. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. Y'know, the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' thing."

"And there lies your fallacy, Captain." Spock leaned forward intently. "He is, in fact, no longer innocent. He has killed, repeatedly, remorselessly. He was found guilty, was sentenced, and is now a criminal at large whom we are harboring, illegally, I might add, and whom we can no longer be certain we are able to contain. I fail to see why you are ignoring this obvious fact. I realize that I agreed with this course of action when the alternative was to allow him to fall in the hands of Section 31 and their morally even more inexcusable methods. However, that danger has been averted, and your responsibility now lies with the safety of your crew."

Jim grimaced. This was just like chess before Spock would announce that his next move would put Jim in checkmate. There really was no good argument to counter all this, and no doubt the next thing out of the Vulcan's mouth would be something along the lines of Jim being emotionally compromised, and Jim really, _really_ did not want to have his command taken away from him again. "Well," he said at last, "what do you suggest we do? Hand him back over to Starfleet security, only to have Section 31 get their hands on him again sooner or later? Or maybe let him go free and have him wreak havoc all over the galaxy, if what you're thinking about him is correct?"

He was not destined to hear Spock's reply to that one, because the intercom cut in with a terse, "Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock to the bridge."

* * *

"Status report," Jim said as the turbolift doors swished closed behind him and Spock.

"We picked up a distress signal from a ship with a Federation call sign," Uhura reported. "The SS Kattegat, way off from where she's supposed to be according to Starfleet Control. They say they lost maneuvering ability, and their life support is failing."

"On screen, Keptin," Chekov added.

Jim looked at the sad sight of a formerly space-worthy freighter now helplessly subjected to the whims of space. "Hail them," he ordered Uhura.

"Frequency is open."

"SS Kattegat, this is the USS Enterprise. We have received your distress signal and stand ready to assist. Please state the nature of your emergency."

There was a worrying pause, but then a faint voice could be heard. "USS Enterprise, this is Captain Miguel Fernandez of the SS Kattegat, we hear you. We had a leak of a chemical corrosive that damaged vital ship systems. There is maybe one hour of life support left. We are unable to maneuver. Our efforts to effect repairs have failed. Computers not responding to our commands. Urgently request evacuation of five survivors. Come in, please."

"Captain Fernandez, received and understood. Stand by." Jim looked at Spock, who had taken over his station.

"Five life signs detected, Captain," Spock reported. "The ship may still be salvageable. A ship of that class would require a crew of at least ten to be operational, so there must also have been casualties. Ship's sensors cannot corroborate the emergency, however. I suggest we take the ship in tow to determine exactly what happened."

"Agreed. Sulu, engage tractor beams." Jim pressed a button. "Transporter room, stand by to beam aboard five persons. Dr. McCoy, to the transporter room."

* * *

"Well, Jim," McCoy said nodding at the last survivor to be given a routine examination, a short, somewhat stocky woman who had introduced herself as Ensign Anna Stravinsky. "They're all a little dehydrated but otherwise fine. A full meal, a few hours of sleep, and they'll be right as rain."

Jim nodded, smiling at Anna. "You and the rest of the Kattegat crew will be assigned guest quarters until we can drop you off at the nearest space station. In the meantime, if there's anything you need, Ensign..." He could hear Bones snort behind him but ignored the man, which was really the only thing to do with Bones sometimes.

Anna returned his smile politely. "We'll let you know, Captain." With that, she hopped off the examination table and walked out.

When she had left, McCoy gave in to the snicker he had been suppressing. "Well, who'd've thought? It seems that even the famous Kirk charm has its limits."

"Shut up, Bones," Jim said good-naturedly. "I wasn't even trying to do anything."

"You try to do something with anything that moves, Jim," McCoy countered, still grinning. Then the grin slid off his face. "Even with mass-murdering ex-tyrants, it seems."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Can we not do this now, Bones? I've already got Spock on my case."

"You're not even denying it! Besides, the fact that the two of us keep agreeing on this should tell you something , Jim. We're right, and you're wrong, and no, it's not something we're going to let slide. The lives of the entire crew depend on it!"

"I know, Bones! I know, okay? He didn't try anything when he had the chance, and now he's under lock and key. I'm calling this a calculated risk."

"There is nothing calculable about Khan Noonien Singh, Jim, and you damned well know it." He pointed to his monitors. "See these readings? He's fully recovered. You saw him when we brought him aboard, barely alive, and now he's had a couple of meals and a few hours of sleep and he's _fully recovered_. He escaped from a Section 31 facility while half-dead, and you can bet your sweet Iowa behind that he can escape this cell any time he likes, without breaking a sweat. Calculated risk, my ass."

Jim sighed. "Look, I get that you hate the guy, that Spock hates him, too. I'm not about to let him have the run of the ship, I'm not even about to let him go free off the ship. But I still don't agree that he's this monster that needs to be put down."

Now it was McCoy's turn to roll his eyes. "I never said anything about putting him down."

"Well, then, what else would you have me do with him? We can't let him go, we can't let Starfleet Control have him because Section 31 is everywhere, we can't let him stay aboard this ship. So, what?"

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went haring off to take him aboard this ship, Jim."

"Security to Captain Kirk," the intercom cut in.

McCoy's face could not have signaled 'I told you so' more clearly if the words had been tattooed onto his forehead.

With a sense of trepidation, Jim said, "Kirk here. What it is, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, the prisoner wants to speak with you."

* * *

"How well do you know Ensign Cameron, Captain?"

Jim exchanged a look with Spock. The Vulcan had insisted on accompanying the captain to the brig, clearly expecting Khan to be up to something, and it was obvious that Spock was as surprised by this question as Jim was. "What, why?" Jim countered, not very intelligently.

The Augment, now clad in a simple black standard Starfleet uniform without insignia, stood behind the force field that separated his refurbished cell from the rest of the ship, hands at his sides, facing the two officers calmly. It was obvious from his posture and the ease of his movements that Bones had been right. Khan was physically completely recovered, his pale skin back to its unblemished perfection, his back straight, his gaze cool. "I've seen her twice in all, but I have reason to suspect that something is wrong with her. Maybe you can corroborate."

"Wrong?" Spock echoed in that toneless voice that Jim knew hid some strong emotion, and he remembered that this was the first time the Vulcan and Khan were seeing each other face to face since the Augment had been taken aboard the ship. "Specify."

Khan shifted his gaze to the man who had done his best to kill him a year ago. "Her gait. Her posture. Her mannerisms. The inflections and cadence of her speech. Everything is different. If she did not look the same as before, I'd suspect her to be a different person. And since your security guard assures me that she does not have a twin, I conclude that something is wrong."

"You can tell all that from seeing her twice?" Jim said before he could stop himself. Of course. _Better._

The Augment looked at him, not saying it aloud, but it was there in his slight smirk. "I have ample opportunity to observe your crew, and seeing her twice was quite sufficient for a comparison. Captain. I suggest you question her."

Jim turned to Spock, intending to give him a 'can't-hurt' look, but the Vulcan was engaged in his own wordless communication with Khan, glaring at the Augment, who glowered back, responding to Spock's challenging gaze by drawing back his shoulders and straightening even more. Spock, in turn, lowered his head, his expression granite.

Jim got the impression that countless silent threats and counter-threats were being exchanged while he looked on. Finally, Spock turned back to him. "We should discuss this in private, Captain."

Jim knew that Spock was careful not to discuss their plans in front of the prisoner. He could find no fault with that from a strategic standpoint, but it did make a small part of him sad for reasons he was not about to look into. He nodded at Khan - something Spock pointedly did not -, and together they walked to the nearest turbolift.

"Captain, I am puzzled," Spock said, to Jim's surprise, as soon as the doors had closed. "I can surmise no motive for Khan to tell us what he did except for the obvious one - to manipulate us into binding resources and thus create a diversion. But unless he is in league with the survivors of the SS Kattegat and plans a takeover of this ship together with them -"

Jim rolled his eyes at that. Was he really the only one who did not think that Khan was after his ship?

" - I do not see how this diversion can be in any way advantageous for him in his current situation. Therefore, I am forced to conclude that he is telling the truth. I recommend we have Dr. McCoy have a medical look at the Ensign."

* * *

In a hallway near the crew's quarters, Ensign Tamara Galway was on her way back from the mess hall, looking forward to some downtime. She felt like she had been looking at a monitor for twelve hours straight - it had only been four, but that was beside the point -, and resting her eyes while listening to some relaxing music was sounding like heaven.

As she was walking towards her quarters, she noticed something dark on the floor near the wall, about the size and shape of a golfball. Curious, she picked it up. It was lighter than she had expected, with a coarse, uneven surface that gave a little under the pressure of her fingers. She had no idea what it might be.

She did know, however, that she was aboard a ship traveling in deep space, and that the unknown and unexpected sort of came with the job, so she decided to show the strange ball to her friends in Science and let them have a look at it.

But first, music.

* * *

"Well," McCoy said, handing Jim a PADD, "I have no idea what it was you were expecting to find, but those are Ensign Cameron's vitals, from her last routine check two weeks ago and from just now. There's some little variation, all within established limits. Brain scan's a bit off, but she said she was having trouble sleeping, and that would certainly account for it."

Jim stared at the comparative diagrams and had to agree. They did look similar. But then again, physiological readings had not been what Khan had talked about. "Okay," he said carefully, "and apart from that? Did she seem okay to you?"

"Sure." Bones clearly had no clue what Jim was talking about. "Physically and psychologically fine. A little stressed, but that's no wonder, considering where we are and what we think we're doing out here."

Okay. Seemed like Jim would have to be a little more explicit. "You'd say she's not acting strangely, then? Different?"

"No...?" Bones replied, still puzzled. "I don't know her all that well, but she seems perfectly normal to me. Why? What's this about?"

Jim bit his lip and shook his head. "Shot in the dark. Thanks, anyway."

Leaving Bones to his confusion, Jim made his way back to the bridge, wondering what to make of all this.

* * *

A second small round object was discovered, this time near the officers' quarters. Lieutenant Sulu looked at it curiously, squashed it in his hand experimentally, and decided to show it to someone in the science labs after his shift.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the bridge, Spock was peering at the readouts on his terminal while Jim looked over his shoulder. "I still cannot corroborate Captain Fernandez' account, Captain," the Vulcan said. "There is no evidence of chemical damage to the ship's interior, or even of any other structural damage. The memory banks of the ship's computer have been erased; this could be due to naturally occurring electromagnetic pulses or to deliberate tampering. I have a team currently on the ship trying to find out what happened."

Jim nodded. "Keep me posted, Spock."

The Vulcan straightened and turned to him. "What about Ensign Cameron?"

"Nothing." Jim sighed. "Or at any rate, Bones couldn't find anything wrong with her." He ran a hand through his hair. "Something's fishy here, Spock."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at him. "'Fishy', Captain?"

"Off. Wrong. Y'know, it smells funny. Hence, 'fishy'."

"I do know what the word idiomatically means. Allow me to rephrase: Why do you think that the smell of decomposing members of the pisces genus is in the air? All we have so far is the fact that there is not sufficient data to support Captain Fernandez' report, and an allegation by a convicted criminal that one of our own crew members is acting strangely, which was not corroborated by Dr. McCoy. In sum total, this does not rate 'fishy'."

"I'm inclined to trust Khan's instincts," Jim heard himself say.

Now, Spock raised both eyebrows. "You trust his instincts - or rather, you trust what he claims his instincts to be but may very well simply be lies to distract you - over Dr. McCoy's medical scanners?"

Jim shrugged. "Well, yeah. You said it yourself. He's got no reason to lie to us about this."

"None that we can discern at this point," Spock clarified.

"This is getting us nowhere. I'm gonna talk to him again. Keep me posted about what you find on the Kattegat."

* * *

"Let me guess," Khan said as soon as Jim approached the force field that constituted the fourth wall of the Augment's cell. "Your ship's surgeon could find nothing wrong with Cameron."

Jim nodded. "Everything checks out okay, apparently."

The Augment rose from the single chair he had been sitting on and stepped close to the barrier, arms held loosely at his side. "And now you've come here to find out what I'm up to." He smiled grimly. "I'm not up to anything. No matter what your instruments say or don't say, there is something wrong with her. And not only with her. I'm telling you this because your priority is the safety of your crew, which is something we have in common. I have lost my crew. Is it so hard to believe that my only intention is wanting to spare you the same fate, Captain?"

Jim looked at him. Khan's posture somehow seemed less deliberately imposing than the last time he'd seen the Augment. He held himself as straight as ever, but there was none of the tension he had shown before. Jim hoped that this was because Spock was not here now, whom Khan obviously perceived as a threat - it would mean that the Augment did not feel threatened by Jim. Maybe something of their shared time in sickbay still lingered.

 _Or maybe Spock's the only one he takes seriously and I'm really emotionally compromised, like everybody thinks._ "Okay," he said. "Cards on the table. Tell me what you suspect."

"I know from your security team - who fortunately are rather free with the information they share with me - that you have taken aboard the crew of a damaged ship. Soon after, Ensign Cameron was no longer herself. The same now goes for another member of your crew - Lieutenant Kozaburo. Just like Cameron, the entirety of his mannerisms has changed. This window -" he gestured towards the force field - "... intended to allow your security to observe me at all times - also allows me to observe your crew at all times. They are curious about me, so they've all come to take a look. And I have looked back. By now, I've seen every member of your crew at least twice, and I'm certain that these two are somehow no longer the same."

 _I wonder if they really were just curious about you, Jim thought. Some of them were here a year ago. They saw what you did. I hope they behaved._ "Impressive feat of memory," he commented.

Khan shot him a glance.

Jim spread his hands. "Not saying I doubt you. Please go on."

"You should realize by now where this is leading, Captain. First an ensign, now a lieutenant. A member of the bridge officers will be next. They are working their way up your chain of command. Your ship is being infiltrated. My suspicion is that the crew of the damaged ship is not who they appear. Find them, detain them, find out the truth. And do it quickly, before more of your crew become affected by them."

Jim stared at him. "They were examined. They knew all the Starfleet protocols. Are you suggesting they're aliens? Shape-changers or something?"

"Captain." Khan lowered his head to peer at Jim out of his disconcerting eyes. "You have nothing to lose if I'm wrong and everything to gain if I'm not. Secure your ship first, fill in the details later. You don't have much time."

It was one of those leap of faith moments. Jim listened to his gut, and took the plunge.

* * *

"Spock," Jim said as the bridge turbolift doors swished closed behind him, "locate the crew of the SS Kattegat. Ensign Cameron and Lieutenant Kozaburo as well. We may have a situation."

Spock raised a surprised eyebrow, but turned to his station without comment.

"What situation, Captain?" Sulu asked from his station.

"An invasion, Mr. Sulu."

The helmsman stared at Jim while Spock said, "Three members of the SS Kattegat crew accounted for, Sir. Unable to locate Captain Fernandez or Ensign Stravinsky. The computer reports that their life signs have vanished." He turned to face Jim. "They may be cloaked from our sensors."

Jim experienced the complicated emotion of being elated because he had been right about Khan while being dismayed because Khan had been right. "Notify security. Have them send out search teams of two and locate them. What about Cameron and Kozaburo?"

"They have been located."

"Good. Have security escort them to the briefing room, as well as the rest of the Kattegat crew. Tell security to exercise caution, but not to let on that anything's wrong."

Spock nodded, turning back to his station.

Jim waited for the report that security had executed his orders, trying not to drum his fingers onto the armrest of his chair. He hated waiting, but then again, who didn't?

A stray thought crossed his mind. How would Khan act in this situation? How would he deal with this forced inactivity? Would he get up from his chair and pace, like a caged tiger, the way he had back then, when he was first put into his cell a year ago? Or would he just sit like a stone statue, content with the knowledge that there was nothing to be done, waiting for the call to act? Would he maybe even crack a few jokes with his crew, or discuss tactics, or reminisce about similar past situations?

"Captain!" Spock interrupted Jim's daydreaming. "Security reports that Khan is no longer in his cell. One of the bulkheads has been ripped open."

Those words had the same effect like a bucket of ice water being poured out over him. Jim felt something small and tender inside him wither and die. "Locate him," he ground out in a voice quite unlike his own. "Send security after him. Tell them not to engage when they find him. Go after him yourself, Spock."

It was a measure of Spock's character that he did not say, in word or gesture, anything approaching 'I told you so'. He merely said, "Yes, Captain," and turned back to his station.

Jim had no time to brood over this development, however, because at this moment, the turbolift doors opened, and out stepped the three crew members from the Kattegat, accompanied by Ensign Cameron and Lieutenant Kozaburo. Their faces were stony.

 _Now, this is fishy._ Jim was out of his chair in an instant. He heard Uhura call urgently for security, and a second later, he saw what she, from her position, had been able to observe before anyone else did. The men and women where _changing_.

Their shapes rapidly turned into something that did not look even remotely humanoid. Uniforms ripped as limbs elongated, separated in two, acquired the mobility of tentacles, while torsos shortened, heads opened up into what looked like five flower petals with teeth.

"Intruder alert!" Jim shouted into the intercom. "Security to the bridge!"

Next thing he knew, the creatures threw themselves at them. Jim saw Spock go down beneath an assault of three of the things while one, ignoring Uhura, went for Jim, and the other for Sulu and Chekov. Jim managed to reach a phaser stored underneath his chair seat and got off one shot before a tentacle wrapped itself around his wrist and squeezed; the second shot went wild. The one that had hit seemed to have had no effect.

And damn, these things were strong. Jim gave a sharp bark of pain and barely managed to get his arm free. "Phasers on stun are ineffective!" he shouted, switching to kill and firing at one of the creatures that had converged on Spock. The thing froze briefly, but then resumed its attack, while Spock found out the hard way that there was no centralized nervous system in these beings to be incapacitated with his Vulcan combat techniques. Another tentacle wrapped itself around Jim's forearm, and the phaser went flying.

Sulu had apparently decided to attack the creatures using hand-to-hand while Chekov, whose strength was his intellect, had removed himself from the center of the bridge where all the fighting was taking place and tried to use the ship's internal sensors to take some readings and hopefully determine the creatures' weaknesses, if they even had any. Jim approved. He liked the young navigator as far away from danger as possible. From behind him, Jim could still hear Uhura calling for security.

Then Spock screamed in pain. Time seemed to dilate.

From Jim's vantage point, he could see the three creatures that were attacking Spock bending down to the Vulcan who had fallen under their assault, their five-pronged maws open, and it looked like they were about to _eat_ him.

"Spock!" Jim yelled, but before he could do anything, a tentacle lashed his feet together, yanking his legs out from under him. He rolled to break his fall but could not get free. Kicking and fighting, he grabbed one questing tentacle and bent it double, but there were no bones to break.

It took him a moment to notice that a new sound had joined the cacophony - a high-pitched wailing. A blob of something oozing a clear liquid landed in front of his face with a splat. Looking up, he saw one of the creatures that had converged on Spock being literally torn apart, tentacles and teethed maw petals flying everywhere and spraying that clear blood all over the bridge.

There was a roar, and then Khan - God knew where he had come from - threw the dismembered alien aside. Uhura, who had found a duranium rod, was joining the fray, battering at the alien that still had Jim's legs in its grasp. Chekov, on Jim's other side, had apparently also decided that this was the best course of action and was attacking the alien Sulu was battling, wielding a similar rod, getting dangerously close to the thrashing tentacles.

But Jim's attention was drawn back to Khan. The two remaining aliens, having decided that the Augment was the bigger threat, now ignored Spock, who was on the floor curled around his bleeding hand, and converged on Khan. Tentacles lashed out and were battered away and ripped off as Khan turned into a one-man combat detail tearing into the two aliens as if they were made of jelly. It did not matter that he was unarmed. He was a weapon, as the aliens learned to their cost.

Jim found that his legs were free due to Uhura's well-aimed strikes; before the creature could retaliate, he lunged at the thing, intent on holding it down and away from Uhura, but only getting entangled in more tentacles for his trouble. The teethed maw reared up in front of his face; Jim could actually see the thing's gullet dilating, preparing to swallow him whole - only to watch two hands gripping both sides of the maw and tearing the thing's head in two. The hands, of course, belonged to Khan, whose face was locked in that near inhuman combat focus Jim had seen before, on Kronos. There was more rending and tearing and shrieking, joined by Khan's own wordless roars of battle rage; the tentacles went limp. Already, Khan was off again, seeking out his next target.

The last alien died in a spray of clear blood, almost as an afterthought.

Silence descended on the bridge, only broken by the intruder alert klaxon. Groaning, the bridge crew picked themselves up from under bits of tentacles, wiping alien goo off their faces and taking stock of injuries.

Jim, for one, knew that he would be feeling the grip of those appendages for a while. "Everyone okay?" he said.

Nods and 'Yes, Sir's and one 'Bozhe moj' assured him that everyone was alive if battered and bruised. He noticed the opened emergency access hatch, which answered the question of where Khan had come from.

From the quick looks shared between his crew, Jim gathered they all knew without anyone needing to state it aloud: Khan had just saved their lives. Jim grinned at them, but said nothing. Contrary to popular opinion, he, too, could suppress the urge to say 'I told you so'.

The Augment had straightened to his familiar erect posture and shook his soggy hair out of his face, turning from almost animalistic warrior to suave if disheveled nobleman in an instant. "Captain. I apologize for the state of my cell. There was no time to convince your security to lower the force field and let me go." Jim noticed that he was barely even breathing heavily, damn him.

Behind Khan, Spock had gained his feet as well, holding his hand that was steadily oozing green blood. "You anticipated this," the Vulcan stated, voice controlled and face impassive despite the pain he must be in.

Khan turned to him. "Yes. This was obviously an invasion. I realized that their next move after being discovered would be an open attack on the bridge." He turned back to Jim. "I'm sorry for the lives that you lost."

Before Jim could reply, the turbolift doors opened, depositing a full security detail storming out, phasers drawn. Lieutenant Commander Giotto came to an abrupt halt as he saw the dismembered aliens littering the bridge. "What the hell…?" Then his eyes fell on Khan, and he trained his phaser on him. "You're... under arrest." When Khan ignored him completely, Giotto turned to Jim, now looking thoroughly discomfited. "Sir, what's going on?"

Jim felt that it was time to take control of the situation. "Commander Giotto, the bridge is secure; you and your men can stand down. Uhura, let Dr. McCoy know that he has a patient. Also, have a decon team clear the bridge. Everyone else, to the briefing room for de-briefing. You, too, Khan."

Predictably, Spock protested his status as a patient, while Giotto protested Khan's status as un-contained and unguarded.

Jim raised his hand for silence. "We should all realize by now that, where Khan is concerned, brigs and security forces are mere formalities. And, Spock, you're bleeding all over my bridge; I don't want you doing the same to the rest of my ship. You can join us when you're patched up."

* * *

To his chagrin, Jim had to acknowledge that protocol and standard procedure tended to take precedence over his wishes. McCoy insisted on checking everyone out before anything else happened - "You were in contact with alien body fluids, Jim! There's no telling what sort of contagions you may have picked up. I'm not letting any of you parade through this ship and spread alien germs everywhere before your screens come back clean." - and Giotto reminded Jim that, even though Khan could probably decimate the entirety of his security team in minutes if he wished, there were certain ways things were done, which included not letting prisoners and a starship's command staff be in the same room without security forces in attendance.

And so, the veterans of the bridge squid battle found themselves subjected to decon showers and issued new uniforms, surrounded by security in Khan's case, and scheduled to get poked and prodded in sickbay. Spock's hand, having been down one alien's throat - which the Vulcan admitted only when threatened with unusual cruelty by McCoy -, required some regeneration but would heal with no lasting effects. Fortunately, the injury had not been severe enough for Spock to need a healing trance.

Jim left the decon shower stall, new uniform in hand and a towel around his waist, twisting in an attempt to see the spectacular bruise on his back from where the tentacles had grabbed him. Sulu and Chekov were already in the locker room getting dressed.

"You guys okay?" Jim asked them, dispensing with protocol. Chekov was still a little pale, and Jim reminded himself that the guy was practically a teenager. He was bound to be affected a bit more by almost getting eaten by shape-changing aliens than the more experienced crew members.

"Of course, Sir," Sulu said briskly, while the young Russian nodded.

"That vas a close vun, dough, Sir."

"Not that close," Jim objected, putting on his uniform pants. "Security were on their way, and besides, Khan had the situation under control pretty quickly."

"Oh, yes." Sulu looked at Jim from pulling on his boots. "That was a bad moment, though."

"What was?"

"When we thought he'd escaped confinement."

"I tought he vas goink to etteck us ven he vas suddenly dere," Chekov admitted. "Keptin - do you tink he's really on our side?"

Jim barely hesitated. Sulu was right, that had been a bad moment. But he had been sure about Khan since that night in sickbay, and, following the events on the bridge, any last lingering uncertainty had been eradicated. "Yes, Mr. Sulu. I think he's on our side."

Just then, the man himself arrived.

Khan obviously had no use for modesty - he had left the decontamination shower stall gloriously naked, towel negligently slung over one well-muscled shoulder and holding his newly issued, neatly folded uniform in one hand. And he looked magnificent in his nudity, a fact which was not lost on the two security guards following him, judging from their struggles to keep their eyes front-and-center.

The fact certainly was not lost on Jim, who didn't even try. _So, this is what perfection looks like._ Unblemished skin, ideal proportions, excellently developed and defined musculature, impressive shoulder-to-waist ratio, and - he was Jim Kirk, of course he looked - very well endowed. He could certainly forgive the Augment's habitual arrogance now. _If I looked like that, I'd be insufferable._

Checkov, too, was staring, and even Sulu's expression conveyed a bit more than just the respect one warrior owed another.

And Khan, ignoring them all, calmly proceeded to put on his uniform, bit by bit concealing his flawless physique from view, which was both intensely disappointing and a relief to bruised egos. "See you in sickbay, Captain, gentlemen," he then said into the awed silence, reminding everyone of his tiger-purr voice and precise diction, and walked out, followed by his blushing entourage.

The silence continued while Jim gave wordless thanks to whatever gods watched over starship captains for the fact that he had been wearing pants, and Chekov found a place to sit down heavily.

"Pheromones," the young navigator finally said, nodding to himself as if that explained it all.

Jim nodded. Made sense. And it was certainly a much better explanation than, _I think I'm in love._

* * *

The briefing room felt unusually cramped. Not only the entire bridge crew plus the ship's surgeon were present, but also Khan and his inevitable escort of four guards who were obviously trying not to look as dispensable as they felt.

"Right," Jim said, looking at those assembled and unable to help thinking that, as far as he was concerned, this was a step in the right direction - they were working with Khan, not against him. "So, how did we get from rendering assistance to the SS Kattegat to getting covered in alien goo on the bridge? Let's start with the ship. Spock?"

The Vulcan, whose right hand was encased in a regeneration glove, nodded at the PADD lying on front of him on the table. "The SS Kattegat's distress call was fake. My team could find no evidence of chemical leaks or indeed any damage aboard the ship. But we did ascertain that the ship's computer memory banks were deliberately wiped. Data reconstruction is ongoing and so far shows that the ship, at some point, picked up the survivors of another ship's collision with an asteroid. We also found twelve of these." In his good hand, he held up an unevenly shaped, roughly round object the size of a golf ball.

"Wait a minute, Sir," Sulu interrupted. "I've been meaning to show you this." He produced a similar ball, though of a darker color. "I found it on the Enterprise, near the officers' quarters."

"What are they?" Jim asked. A thought struck. "Don't tell me they're squid eggs or something similarly weird."

Khan, across from him, gave him a look, but said nothing.

"They are solid, and almost entirely composed of keratin, Captain," Spock said, "though there are traces of DNA present. We are running comparative tests now."

"They won't be necessary," Khan spoke up.

The Vulcan nodded. "I agree. We are able to extrapolate what we will find. The only logical conclusion is that the balls we found aboard the SS Kattegat are, in fact, all that is left of her crew. And this one -" he pointed at the one Sulu held - "constitutes the remains of either Ensign Cameron or Lieutenant Kozaburo. A second one must be somewhere aboard the Enterprise."

There was a pause. Jim's imagination supplied him with a vivid image of how exactly these balls had come into existence, and he felt a shiver of horror.

McCoy cleared his throat. "I've looked at what's left of the aliens. Their body cells are really something. Highly adaptable. Apparently, these creatures had the ability to shapechange into anything they ingested. They took not only the chemicals from their food that they needed to reconstruct their bodies accordingly, but also molecular information like general knowledge and memories stored in their victim's brains. Which was why they were able to mimic their victims' behavior so perfectly."

"Not quite so perfectly," Khan commented.

"No need to be so smug about it," McCoy countered, "but, yeah. They fooled everyone except you."

"Okay," Jim said. "So five of these aliens boarded the SS Kattegat, ate their crew, each one impersonated a crew member, and then they came aboard our ship and began to eat and impersonate our crew with the intention of taking over the Enterprise."

"Their final targets would have been the bridge crew," Khan said. "Impersonating you would have given them both the knowledge and the authority to operate your ship. When you sent out your search teams, they realized that you had become suspicious, and that their covert operation was in danger of being discovered. So they mounted a preemptive strike, secure in the knowledge that neither your weapons nor your physical defenses would be enough to stop them."

"And you saw that coming, so you decided to break out and lend us a hand," Jim concluded, unable to keep from smiling. No, he would not imply any 'I told you so' if it killed him. "You saved our lives, and the ship." Well, okay, maybe a little bit of 'I told you so' was in there after all.

"So I did," Khan replied coolly. "In return for which, I assume, you'll lock me back up in my cage?"

There was an awkward silence.

"That would obviously be pointless," Spock finally said. "Nevertheless, in view of your nature and your past behavior, some sort of containment measure remains indicated."

Khan's face became even more expressionless. "That is, of course, your decision." He folded his hands on the table in front of him as if already anticipating being put in cuffs.

Jim marveled at the fact that the Augment managed to look hurt by this demonstration of continued mistrust without, well, looking hurt. "It is, in fact, _my_ decision," he said, "and I'd also like to point out that, if Khan did have any criminal intentions, he just missed the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was wait. Instead, he risked his own life to save ours, especially yours, Spock."

"I am well aware of that, Captain," the Vulcan replied. "My objection still stands."

Khan focused fully on him. "What will it take to win your trust, Mr. Spock?" he said softly but with a subtle suggestion of challenge.

Jim tamped back on his impulse to regain control of the discussion. He wanted to hear the answer to that one himself.

Spock, too, gave Khan his full attention. "Nothing you can do or say will ever be sufficient for that," he said. "Even if you saved my life dozens of times, I would never be able to ignore your past deeds or what you are."

"That does not answer my question. What. Will. It. Take?"

The Vulcan leaned forward, his own body posing its challenge. "Nothing less than full disclosure of all your thoughts, memories, and feelings to me during a Vulcan mind meld."

Jim heard gasps from those around him and felt his own breath leave his lungs in a rush. It was very unusual for Spock to even discuss the meld as a possible alternative in any scenario. After all, it was a terrible invasion of privacy, something which Vulcans were averse to on an almost instinctive level. The fact that he brought it up now gave Jim hope that the Vulcan was as interested in forging an alliance with Khan as he was.

"Ah!" Khan said, drawing back his shoulders. "So there is a way. I wasn't sure. But we've been there before, Mr. Spock, haven't we? Only then, you were using your mind as a weapon, projecting pain into mine to cripple me. I have no doubt that you could easily do so again if I agreed to this. Or worse - leave me with a damaged mind. A vegetable. Or even dead. The threat neutralized; problem solved. I would have no hope of fighting you in your element. After all, matters of the mind are your domain. This is where Vulcans are _better_." He raised his hand when Spock opened his mouth to object. "I know. You're an honorable man; your word will bind you. Of course you will give me your word that you will not abuse your abilities, despite your 'past deeds'. And you will expect me to accept that, and to subject myself to this risk, while refusing to offer me the same courtesy."

Jim felt his heart sink. With this much distrust on both sides, how could he keep hoping that this would somehow work?

The Augment briefly broke eye contact with Spock to look at Jim. "However, your remarkable captain has said it: Trust has to start somewhere." He turned back to the Vulcan. "I accept your terms, Mr. Spock."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't understand," Jim said, softly so as not to disturb Spock.

They were in Spock's quarters. The Vulcan was in the other corner of the room, meditating in preparation for the mind meld, which gave Jim a few minutes to indulge his curiosity.

"Why are you going along with this? You barely allowed McCoy near you before, to treat you, and now you're about to let Spock into your _mind_?"

Khan, for once not guarded by security, leaned back in his chair, but did not appear completely relaxed. "It will save me hours of promises, explanations, and pacts written in blood."

Jim frowned. "What?"

The Augment looked at him expectantly, then gave a brief smile. "I suppose my sense of humor takes some getting used to. In my defense, it was not a priority during my design. But to answer your question... I find myself in the unusual situation of having no purpose. I was made to fight, to conquer, and ultimately, to rule and to protect. But I have nothing to fight for, nothing and no one left to protect. It feels… unsettling." He fell silent, looking away to collect his thoughts.

Jim noticed that Spock had come out of his meditation and was listening.

"Nothing except what you are offering me, Captain," Khan went on. "You are a remarkable individual. Superior, in many ways, to other humans. You have the courage of your convictions, and the fury of righteousness. And, most importantly, the ability to transcend your own limitations. I find myself… attracted to that."

Now it was Jim's turn to look away, wondering if Khan was really saying what he thought he was saying. Also, Jim found that he did not deal with honest and matter-of-fact compliments very well. Or with being the object of overt flirtation.

But Khan was not finished. "Oh, I know you haven't really offered me anything yet, not in so many words. But don't tell me you haven't considered it."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jim said, wanting to get some of his own back. At the same time, he was again filled with hope. _Yes, I want that. I want you by my side. I want this insane protective streak of yours directed at me, and at my crew._ "We need the Spock seal of approval before we can even think about where we want to go from here," he said aloud, not just for Khan's benefit.

"I know," Khan said. "That's why I agreed to this."

Spock rose from his meditative pose. "Then let us proceed." He made an elegant gesture, inviting Khan to approach him.

The Augment joined him in the meditation area, face set, shoulders tense. _He's scared_ , Jim realized, surprised.

Spock, apparently, noticed it, too. "Please try to refrain from excessive emoting," the Vulcan said. "I will not harm your mind, but the meld can be unpleasant if you resist. Strong emotions can conceivably affect my concentration."

Khan took a deep breath. "Tell me what to expect."

It was a terse order, but Spock complied readily. "I will touch certain points on your face. You will then hear my thoughts in your mind, instructing you to enter into a trance. This will enable me to induce a sleep-like state in your brain. You will remain awake, but your mind will not be under your conscious control, similar to dreaming. You will hear, see, and feel the thoughts and memories that I access in your mind. When I have learned what I need to know, I will lead your mind back to wakefulness. We will both retain the full memory of all that occurred."

Khan nodded, visibly trying to relax tense muscles. "And who will learn from you about the things you learn from me?"

"No one. I will give Captain Kirk my recommendation regarding your future treatment based on what I learn, but the details will remain confidential."

"I see."

They sat down cross-legged, facing each other.

Jim looked from one to the other. "Do you want me to leave?"

"You can stay if you wish," Khan replied, eyes never leaving Spock.

Jim nodded, relieved, and found a place from which to watch.

The Vulcan raised one hand, fingers splayed. "Are you ready?"

Khan lowered his head. "Are you?"

"Certainly."

"Don't be so sure. You were kind enough to prepare me, so allow me to return the favor. What you will see in my mind will be shocking for your civilized intellect, coddled by twenty-third century existence as it is. It would be hard to endure even for my contemporaries."

Naturally, Spock did not smile. "I am a Vulcan. My ancestors were savages. I believe I will be able to manage your savagery."

"Then, by all means, proceed."

Spock touched the tips of his fingers to the Augment's face. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts…." He fell silent, eyes losing focus as they stared into the memories of Khan's life. Jim noticed that the Augment's breathing had accelerated. Khan, too, kept his eyes open, and the look in them was anything but placid.

It got worse as the minutes passed. Jim watched both their expressions mirror the same feelings; violent, sad, ugly feelings; rage and hate and terror and loneliness, and very little joy.

When Spock finally removed his hand, both his and Khan's face were streaked with tears.

With a gasp, Khan surged to his feet, threw Jim a wild look, and bolted out the door.

"Go after him, Jim," Spock forced out, wiping his face.

Jim hesitated. "Will you be okay?"

"Yes. Go!"

Jim ran out into the corridor. To his surprise, the Augment had not gotten far. He stood facing the corridor wall just a few yards away, leaning with both hands against the wall, head bowed, breathing in gulping gasps.

He looked up when he heard Jim approach. His face was a battlefield.

"C'mon," Jim said, impulsively. "My quarters are just down there."

He lead the way, not knowing whether Khan would stay where he was, or storm away, or attack him. From the expression he had seen on the Augment's face, anything was possible. However, after a few steps, he heard the other man begin to follow, heard him breathing, stuttering and uneven. Finally, the door to Jim's quarters swished shut behind them.

Khan slid to the floor, his back to the wall next to the door, his hands fisted into his hair. He was not crying, exactly; more like making short, soft keening noises interspersed with sobs. To Jim, it looked like he was being torn apart by the feelings the meld had stirred up, desperately trying to hold himself together, literally, when he drew up his knees to his body to hide his face behind them. Shutting himself off. Battling his way through it, fighting to the end, alone.

Always alone.

 _Fuck that._ Jim joined him on the floor and put an arm around his shoulders, feeling muscles hard as steel vibrate with tension. A pained sound was the only reaction Jim got, which, he supposed, was great, considering that the alternative might be a broken neck. He cast about for something suitable to say but came up empty. 'It's okay' was not going to cut it, since it very obviously was not. 'Spock has that effect on everyone' was inappropriately flippant. And 'I'm here' was just stating the obvious.

"I hope this is worth it," Khan said thickly, saving Jim any further mental effort. He raised his head and rubbed his face with both hands, shook his head violently, teeth bared, as though trying to scare his own feelings into submission.

Jim left his arm where it was, even daring to pull the Augment in closer. And, to his complete surprise, Khan slumped, letting Jim hold him upright, his head coming to rest on Jim's shoulder. But only for a moment, just long enough to get his breath back under control, did he allow himself to lean on somebody else. Still, Jim wondered if this had ever happened before. Whether it would happen again.

Then the moment ended. "Let us go and hear the verdict," Khan said, voice almost back to normal, moving out of Jim's half-embrace and getting to his feet.

Jim followed him to a stand. "Spock'll need a moment to get himself together," he objected.

Khan threw him a look. His eyes were still reddened, but apart from that, he seemed to have regained his control. "He can stand a little embarrassment after putting me through this," the Augment said in that dry undertone he had used before.

"I doubt it was intentional," Jim said, but he did have to smile.

"I know it wasn't." The Augment turned to face Jim. "Since your excellent First Officer, who would die for you in case you weren't aware, now knows all my thoughts, feelings, and intentions as if they were his own, he should no longer have a _logical_ reason to object to my presence aboard your vessel."

Jim decided to put this revelation about Spock into his mental 'pending' file in favor of the slight emphasis on 'logical'. "But he may have an illogical one?"

Khan's voice was as dry as the desert. "That depends on whether he's the jealous type."

For a moment, Jim could not breathe. The Augment's piercing blue-green eyes were on him, too close for rational thought. Then Khan opened those improbable bow-shaped lips, and Jim was sure they were going to kiss. He found he had no objection.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Khan said softly, "Captain." He drew back, eyes still intense, not quite smiling.

Jim exhaled noisily. "If you're going to tease me like that, Khan, you might as well call me Jim."

Another hint of a smile. "I'll call you by your title as long as you call me by mine." He ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down his uniform. "Don't you want to know first if your gut feeling about me was correct?"

"I know it was correct, but you're right. Let's make it official."

* * *

"I apologize for my mistrust," Spock said formally.

Just like Khan, he was back to being completely in control, not a hair out of place, looking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Jim allowed himself a moment of fond exasperation at having to deal with two of them.

"Unnecessary," Khan said. "I'd have acted no differently in your place."

"Your intentions regarding this ship and her crew are no longer in doubt. However," the Vulcan continued, "I advise caution. Several crew members have lost relatives due to your actions a year ago and will harbor resentment towards you."

"They'll act professionally, or they can transfer right off my ship," Jim stated, grinning like an idiot. "'Harboring resentment' is fine. Acting on it is not."

"Indeed." Spock looked like he was about to add something but refrained.

"Great," Jim said brightly. He thought he might take a stab at guessing what it was his First Officer was not saying, but now was not the time. He turned to Khan. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Singh."

Khan closed his eyes in obvious relief. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim pushed the intercom button. "Lieutenant Uhura, give me ship-wide."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Attention all personnel, this is your captain speaking. Effective immediately, due to exemplary conduct that single-handedly saved this ship and her crew, and following an in-depth investigation, Khan Noonien Singh is given the status of guest aboard this ship and granted access to all non-restricted areas. You're expected to treat him with all due courtesy. Kirk, out." Jim closed the intercom. "Well. I'd say this calls for a celebration."

* * *

The rec room was packed. It was not often that the crew got to indulge in a party, so everyone who was not on an active shift made it their business to be there.

Leonard McCoy peered at the Augment who currently was deep in conversation with Carol Marcus. The ship's food synthesizers had cooked up something resembling half-way decent pizza, which mellowed him somewhat, but not completely. "So, we're absolutely sure about this?" he said, not for the first time. Hey, he didn't have the benefit of being able to look into someone's mind, so excuse him for not being able to let go quite so quickly.

Spock, who had no use for pizza, took a sip of his tomato juice, or whatever it was. It certainly looked like tomato juice, but Leonard suspected that it was some alien, probably Vulcan, goo, and, knowing Spock, almost certainly very spicy. "There are no absolutes in nature, but yes. I am as certain as I can be."

Leonard took a bite off his slice and licked his fingers. "What's it like? The mind of an Augment. I suppose it's different from a human's."

"Judging from a very limited sample size, yes, it is different. Much more structured. Superior processing speed. True multitasking. Perfect recall. Impressive memory capacity. Highly adaptive."

Was Leonard detecting a trace of envy? Something to keep in mind for when the opportunity arose.

"Limbic system to neocortex connections are highly developed," the Vulcan continued, "I suspect to enable him to ignore pain stimuli in battle situations, and to access his instincts. But it also makes him subject to strong emotions once the limbic system is engaged."

"Right. Well. Okay. So, now you know all about him, right? You know what makes him tick."

He expected the inevitable comment on the idiom, but Spock surprised him. "I do."

"And, obviously, we both were dead wrong about him. He's not somehow genetically compelled to destroy anything he regards as inferior."

"Indeed not."

"That also means that history painted him in a bad light, right? I mean, you know what he did and didn't do three hundred years ago, right?"

Spock's expression did not change, but then again, Leonard did not really expect it to. "Yes, I do."

Leonard waited. Nothing was forthcoming. "But you're not going to tell me."

"The mind meld is private. I am satisfied as to Mr. Singh's morality."

Leonard grabbed another slice. "Fair enough. But, Jim saw him for what he could be without reading his mind. Why do you think that was?"

"Without violating a confidence, I can say that the captain made excellent use of what you humans call a 'gut feeling'. His actions when Mr. Singh was recovering in your sickbay were what diverted him from his intended course of action. In that, the captain has demonstrated remarkable perspicacity. He, too, divined what makes Mr. Singh 'tick'."

Leonard had to parse that one for a bit. "Okay. So, what was Khan's 'intended course of action', and what exactly did Jim do?"

"That is not for me to divulge."

"Fine." He caught sight of Jim, who was looking at Khan with a funny little smile. "So. What're we gonna do about that?" he said, nodding his head in the direction of the lovestruck idiot.

Spock looked at him askance. He was really good at that. "We are not going to 'do' anything, Doctor. If it were not for Captain Kirk's feelings and intuition, we would have missed this opportunity. Neither of us even considered the possibility of treating Noonien Singh as anything other than an enemy. It is not up to us to decide whether this development is to be prevented or not."

"So, you're on board with this?"

"I am not opposed to it."

Leonard grinned. "Didn't know you were such a romantic."

Predictably, Spock did not deign to grace that crack with a reply.

Grin still in place, Leonard excused himself and, grabbing his last pizza slice and his glass, joined Jim at his table. "What're they talking about?" he asked, nodding at Khan and Carol Marcus, on the basis that nothing said in the rec room during a party had a right to remain private.

To Leonard's amusement, Jim actually had to force the besotted grin off his face. "Weapons. I think. It moved beyond what I can grasp a while ago, and I'm pretty good with weapons."

Munching his pizza, Leonard watched Carol's animated face as she explained something using complicated hand motions; Khan was nodding along before taking over with equally complicated gestures. It was obvious that this was a meeting of like minds. "I'd've thought this would be a little more awkward," Leonard commented, nodding towards them. "She was pretty traumatized by what he did to her and her father."

Jim grinned. "Pheromones."

"What?"

"It's the standard explanation for everything involving him, apparently," Jim said. "Chekov started it." He grinned. "You should have seen Chief Giotto earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Jim helped himself to what looked like olives but probably was something alien that Leonard did not really want to know about. "Asked Khan... asked him about improving the security cells so even an Augment wouldn't be able to break out, and he actually gave him some pointers. When they were finished, Giotto was practically in love. He promised to oversee the restructuring."

"Khan did."

"Yeah."

"Why are you avoiding saying his name?"

Jim ate another probably-not-olive. "'Cause that's not his name, it's a title. I'm trying to shake the habit of thinking of him as 'Khan'. His name is Noonien Singh."

Leonard nodded, his mouth being full of the rest of his pizza. Now that he thought about it, it became obvious that Spock had been doing the same thing just then. "What I've been meaning to ask you," he said when he could speak again. "Spock mentioned that you did something that night in sickbay, when Khan... when Singh was first barely hanging on and then getting better without my help. What was it?"

Jim smiled that funny little smile again. "The right thing. I didn't think about it. I just... didn't kick him when he was down. And I showed him that, if he wanted to, he'd have a place to belong, no strings attached."

That made sense. Leonard nodded again. "So, Marcus with all his coercion and threats and whatever else he did gets himself killed in the end, then along you come, and all you do is be a nice human being, and he's your friend for life?"

Khan and Carol Marcus were now bent over a PADD, heads almost touching, pointing things out to each other. "Yeah," Jim said, looking proud. "Turns out even augmented humans have simple human needs. A home, a family, a function in the universe."

Leonard rolled his eyes at Jim's the choice of words. Another romantic. God give him strength. "Well, Spock agrees with you, and he really should know, so I suppose it's all right."

Khan looked up, saw them, and rose, excusing himself. "Discussing ship's business, gentlemen?" he said, sitting down next to Jim.

Leonard did not miss the way Jim smiled at the Augment. "Don't tell me you didn't overhear us. The music's not that loud."

"I heard you talking about me. I assume it concerns ship's business."

Leonard eyed the probably-not-olives but decided not to risk them.

"Not really," Jim said, "not yet, anyway. But since you're here, have you thought about what you're going to do now? I suppose there'd be nothing stopping you from leaving this ship." It did not take a telepath or augmented senses to realize that that was not what Jim wanted.

"And take my revenge?" Khan said. "Seek out all Section 31 bases and obliterate everyone who ever worked on a certain project?"

Jim looked down at his hands. "Well, yeah. Of course, if you really did that, it'd be better if I don't know about it." Leonard could practically feel him holding his breath.

Khan eyed the olive lookalikes, took one and gave it a thorough visual inspection. "I've avenged myself on the man who killed my crew and used me for his own purposes. His death was violent and prolonged. And in any case, revenge is a dish best served cold."

Jim looked at Leonard, then back at Khan. "That sounds ominous."

Khan ate the olive-like thing, visibly enjoying drawing this out. "What I'm saying is that my immediate desire for revenge is satisfied. I won't actively seek out any Section 31 operatives, but if they happen to cross my path, I won't be responsible for my actions." He frowned, considering, then ate another olive-thing.

Jim pushed the bowl of probably-not-olives towards him. "So, you'll stay?" he asked hopefully.

"Do you want me to?" Now, that was a positively devilish grin.

Jim looked like he wanted to slap him. "Yes, dammit! Of course I want you to stay. The question is, what do you want?"

Khan seemed to like the not-olives, because he ate another one while he thought about his answer. "Ah, the offer is finally on the table. Very well, Captain. Here is my counter-offer. I will stay, and you are welcome to profit from my knowledge and my abilities. I will work as a consultant to you and your crew. However, I will decide the extent of what I offer on a case-by-case basis. I will not be bound by your orders. You may give me orders, but I'll decide if I want to follow them. If I don't agree, I'll make counter-suggestions that I deem to be in your best interest. You are free to refuse them, in which case I will not help you. Would that be acceptable?"

Jim did not even pretend having to think about it. "Yes, that would be acceptable. Those are my terms: You'll remain outside the chain of command with no authority over me and my crew except for what we choose to grant you on a case-by-case basis; you would never be mentioned in my reports, and never receive official commendations or acknowledgements in return for your consultancy. But you would receive food, accommodation, all the amenities this ship has to offer, and a place to belong - and all the action you care to be involved in. Which... I mean not just non-euphemistically." He gave a cheeky grin. "Would that be acceptable, Noonien?"

To Leonard's surprise, Khan actually closed his eyes in what looked like relief. When he opened them again, he was smiling. "Yes, Jim, it would." He blinked and got up from his chair. "Excuse me."

Leonard watched him leave the room and made a gesture indicating his general astonishment and incomprehension at the sudden departure.

Jim smiled sadly. "He needs a moment. I guess this was the first time anyone ever just accepted his terms and allowed him to stay without him having to conquer the place first."

"About time, then," Leonard said, not knowing whether to be sad for Khan or amused about Jim's emotional state. In the end, amusement won out.

But Jim did not see his grin; he was staring at the door through which Khan had left. "This will work, Bones."

Leonard saw the hope in his eyes, the determination. "And if it doesn't, you'll make it work, right?"

Jim returned his look, impossibly blue eyes blazing. "You bet I will."

* * *

**Epilogue - One Year Later**

 

They were running, again. This time, it was a gigantic reptile-like being that was pursuing them through the dense foliage of an alien planet.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate this?" McCoy panted.

"Frequently," Jim replied, out of breath as well. They had been running for a while, but here was the small clump of bushes, and it seemed as if the race was finally nearing the finish line.

Noticing that the sounds of lumbering pursuit behind them had ceased, Jim came to a stop and turned around. "You can stop complaining now, Bones. Noonien's got this."

"About time he got his superior ass over here," Bones grumbled. He, too, had stumbled to a halt, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, fighting to get his breath back. "I've got to put in more hours in the gym."

A few dozen yards away, their consultant-slash-bodyguard had tackled the reptile thing that had chosen them for dinner to the ground and was cheerfully goading it into a fight with well-aimed punches. It had several feet and at least eight hundred pounds on him.

"Should we call in for reinforcements?" McCoy panted.

"Nah." Jim grinned, dropping down into the grass to watch. "He'll have a bit of fun with it. It'll hopefully give him a proper workout. He doesn't get enough of those."

"The workouts you're giving him not cutting it, Jim?"

Jim threw him a look. "Of course not. He's terrified of hurting me. Being five times stronger than a human isn't funny when you really want to let go."

The air was filling with roars and reptilian cries of pain.

"Godzilla isn't looking too good," McCoy commented, before adding, "That sucks."

"Don't worry about it." Jim had to raise his voice over the sounds of foliage being smashed. He could feel himself grinning. "It's a nice problem to have." Besides, restraint or no, the sex was spectacular, but he wasn't going to give Bones any details.

The reptile being had regained its feet and was snapping at Khan, who tumbled out of reach easily before ducking down and going in at the creature's underbelly, evading jaws and claws with deadly elegance. Watching him move, Jim felt the same mixture of admiration and envy he had experienced back on Kronos when he had first seen the Augment fight, but now, there was a sense of possessive pride in there as well.

He had felt it when Khan saw through the Berengarians' battle strategy, ensuring victory for the Enterprise last week; when the Augment's ability to hold his breath for ten minutes had saved the lives of the landing party a month ago; when he had agreed to be the ritual sacrifice for the Caputhians so that the rest of the team could go free six weeks ago; when he had kept the landing party alive after they crash-landed a shuttle on Theta Scorpionis IV two months ago. Anything coming for them would have to go through this essence of peak perfection in everything that had devoted himself to Jim and his crew. With that on his side, Jim was ready to take on the universe.

Hours later, when they were both resting in Jim's quarters - which had the bigger bed - and Jim was listening to Khan's even breathing as the Augment lay deeply asleep next to him, trusting and relaxed, he reveled in the awareness that this was his life, was going to continue to be his life, and that he had been wrong a year ago.

It had gotten better. **  
**

 

**\- The End -**

 


End file.
